


Glowing Blue Spit

by RedSuspenders



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: Also a few background OCs, Angst, Cause that is all i write, Finally some monsters, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, background Jack/David
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 11:30:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 24,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8710891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSuspenders/pseuds/RedSuspenders
Summary: Crutchy supplies in complete monotone, “Race had some trouble wid Brooklyn.”In which, Race and Spot have a couple of fights about a silly kiss and chaos ensues. Stuff happens and some monster hunting happens. I'm really bad at summaries without giving anything away, just read it, or not, whatever.





	1. Boring Exposition

 

“‘Ey Race, you see Jack on your way back?” Crutchie asked, tilting his head. He was obviously trying to make it sound like no big deal. On any other day, Race would try to spare his friend’s feelings -- Crutchie had nearly been attached to Jack’s side until Davey came along. But today Race was tired and stressed and didn’t feel like coming up with a nice lie. 

“No, ‘course not. He’s probably hidin’ somewhere, foolin’ around with Davey,” Race exaggerated David’s name, imitating Jack’s thick accent and tendency to fit about four more vowels into his name without changing the number of syllables in the word. Crutchie let out a strangled laugh and turned to sit back on his bunk, poorly hiding his  disappointment and jealousy. Race flopped face first down on his bunk, and let out a long sigh. Without looking up, he reached for the small nightstand, feeling around for the cigar that was always on top. Of course, the surface was empty.

“Snipe Shooter! Wha’ did I say about you takin’ all of my good cigars?!” The only response was the door swinging open but the footsteps were too heavy to be the cigar thief. Race raised his head a fraction to see who was getting back to the lodging house so early in the day.

Mush was walking through the door, with Blink only a few steps behind. They must have just finished selling at the docks. Race dropped his head back onto his flimsy pillow. Mush was laughing at something Blink said, but then his attention turned toward the only other two boys in the room. 

“Hey Crutchie, your leg feelin’ any better?” Crutchie just shrugged. Every now and then if his leg was really bothering him, Crutchie would just stay at the lodging house all day and take it easy, but he couldn’t afford to do it too often. “Well me and Blink sold a few extra copies today for ya,” Mush told him, dropping a nickel and some pennies into Crutchie’s hand and giving him one of his award-winning smiles. Blink simply nodded at Crutchie’s thanks, and turned to Race with a look of confusion.

“How’d ya get back from Sheepshead already? Ya lose all your money on a horse and decided ta give up?” Mush laughed like he always did when he was with Blink.

“‘Course not.” Technically he did lose money today at the races, but that wasn’t anything new, and it definitely wasn’t the reason for his early return. “Just a little trouble with Brooklyn.” At this everyone looked fairly shocked and Race could tell he was about to get bombarded with questions. Luckily, Jack decided to make his entrance at that moment. Jack swung open the door ready to greet the rest of the gang but was met with unusual silence. 

“What’s the matter wit all of ya? Youse look like ya just saw a ghost or somethin’.” Jack’s smile faltered when he was met with blank stares. 

“Race had some trouble wid Brooklyn,” Crutchie supplied in complete monotone. None of them had looked away from Race, not even Crutchie, who usually gave Jack his full attention. 

“Oh?” This was a complete surprise to Jack; when he took over Manhattan, he’d quickly done his best to befriend Spot in order to cut down on the fights between the two boroughs. Of course, they still had occasional disagreements, but most of the Manhattan newsies were terrified of Brooklyn so they kept their distance. The only exception to the rule was Race, who was on good terms with all the boroughs, going to a different one each night to play cards with whoever had the money to join him. However as close as Race may be to the rest of the boroughs, we was without question on the best terms with Brooklyn. He sold papes on their turf every day, spending all day there once he’d finished selling and only returning to Manhattan to sleep. In fact, Race and Spot seemed to be around each other as much as Jack and Davey were.

Jack had been a newsie almost as long as Race had and he had never seen Spot and Race argue. “So you gonna tell us what happened?” Jack knew it wasn’t going to be that easy and wasn’t surprised by the muffled “fuck no” he got in response. 

“Alright then, come with me, and I’ll buy ya a new pack a cigars,” he coaxed, using the trick that almost always worked. Sure enough, Race slowly got up from the bunk and glared at each of the others as he made his way to the door. 

It was mid October and cold enough that Race could see his breath in front of him. He could hear Jack’s teeth slightly rattling next to his ear. Race bet himself that it would only take Jack three and a half blocks to ask what happened again. True to his prediction, exactly three and a half blocks away from the lodging house, Jack broke the silence and Race smirked in spite of himself.

“I’m guessin’ it had somethin’ ta do with Spot.” Race nodded but didn’t elaborate. “Fine, I’ll wait ‘til you’re ready ta talk then.” Jack didn’t mean it as a snappy remark, knowing that sometimes Race had to figure things out in his own head before he was ready to share with everyone else. Race appreciated the gesture, except this one might take a while to sort out; he didn’t want to relive his mistakes by thinking through what had happened.

“I’m banned from Brooklyn.” Race kept his voice level, but Jack stopped dead in his tracks and stared dumbfounded at Race.

“Um… Don’t worry, Spot’ll-”

“Spot’s the one that did it. He don’t want to see ma face there anymore.” Race tried to keep the emotion from seeping into voice, but it backfired when his eyes started filling up with tears. 

Jack stared straight ahead and started walking again, giving Race a moment to collect himself. Neither one broke the silence this time: Race not wanting to continue, and Jack not wanting to push his friend. Jack did keep his initial promise though, picking up a pack of cigars a few moments later. Race grabbed one and pocketed the rest. Eventually the Brooklyn Bridge came into view on the horizon and Jack tried to steer them the other way as casually as he could. Race sighed, this time it was he who stopped walking. He sat down on the edge of the busy street and Jack joined him.

“You guys have a fight?” Jack asked as softly as he could and Race simply nodded, taking a deep breath since he knew that the conversation would never progress if he didn't actually contribute.

“I kissed him.” Race spoke so quietly that at first Jack thought he misheard him. “He, uh, didn't really appreciate that.” Race wouldn't look Jack in the face, worried about his reaction.

Jack simply sighed, “He hurt ya?” Race looked up, shocked.

“No! No, ‘course not. Just a lotta yellin’ and stompin’ away.” 

Jack stared at him for a second before cautiously continuing, trying to navigate the minefield this created. “So… are you and him… do you… I didn’t know that you… Do you care for him like... that?” Jack inwardly cringed at his childish wording -- he of all people should be able to address this. Race had been the first of a few close friends he’d told he was gay, knowing that Race would never rat him out to the cops or anyone else that would hurt him for it. Jack was glad that now Race had felt like he could confide in him too, but he wasn’t sure how much Race was going to tell him.

“It was just a stupid bet ta win a couple extra coins, but Spot didn’t know that. I just walked on over to the docks, up to Spot’s throne, and pecked him real quick on the lips. Everyone started whoopin’ and cat callin’ but Spot got real pissed. Threw me out right there in front a everyone.” Race could feel his ears start to turn pink, like they always did when he was embarrassed. He just hoped his cap was pulled down low enough that Jack couldn’t see.

Jack winced, picturing it pretty clearly. Race had probably been grinning when he strolled up to Spot, who was sitting on his pile of crates, like he always did so he could keep an eye on everything. The quick kiss would have caught him off guard for sure and the mocking wouldn’t have helped any. 

“I’m sure he’ll get over it. He probably just thought you made him look weak and a helluva lot less intimidating in front of all his guys. Once he has some time ta cool off he’ll let ya back into Brooklyn.” Race smiled at his friend’s reassurances. 

“I’m supposed to go over for a game a’ cards tomorrow night. I just hope that’ll have been long enough for him to change his mind.” The two got up, stretched, and started the long walk back to the lodging house. By now word would have gotten around to the all the other boys about Race’s banishment, but Race was tired and didn’t want to think about having to face all of them.

“So Jack, how’s Dave doin’? You convince the poor guy into marryin’ ya yet?” Jack just laughed at the change of subject and went into great detail about how his Walking Mouth had gotten into a heated argument with a shopkeeper as Race turned his head to look at the Brooklyn Bridge in the distance.


	2. Talking To Spot

That night, after selling the evening edition of the papers, all the Manhattan newsies met at Tibby’s Diner for a late meal. Denton said he would pay for all of them, and Race had no idea why he would volunteer to do that, but food was food so he wasn’t going to complain. Race scarfed down his hot dog as fast as he could. He wanted to sort things out with Spot since this was one of their longest fights they’d had and he was ready for it to end. 

Mush gave him a disapproving glance as Race was attempting to shove half the hot dog in his mouth at once. Fortunately, Bumlets quickly caught his attention, as he was trying to shove an entire hot dog into his mouth. Mush glared at him, as if telepathically forcing him to have decent table manners. Bumlets didn’t break eye contact with Mush as he slowly started chewing his slightly overflowing mouth of food. Mush just sighed and turned to start talking to Blink. Race let out a laugh at Bumlets’ smug face and stood up from the crowded table. 

“‘Ey I’mma head on out! Thanks for the food, Denton.” As Race passed Jack on his way out, Jack gave him a nod of encouragement, knowing he was on his way to make up with Spot. Race took a deep breath as he stepped outside into the cold, frigid air. It was already pitch black outside, even though it was just a bit before eight.

As Race neared Brooklyn, he quickened his pace. Brooklyn was dangerous enough in daylight, but on a night when he wasn’t exactly welcome there, Race was definitely on edge. Each step closer to the Bridge, the boundary between the boroughs, his nerves grew. He knew it was silly to worry, it was just Spot, and he’d known Spot longer than any of the other newsies. But there was still a small part of him that said Spot wasn’t going to be able to forgive this. Maybe this would be the mistake that ended their friendship. 

Just as Race was about to set foot on the Bridge, he was stopped by two kids that couldn’t have been older than 10. They blocked his path and Race sighed. The taller one crossed his arms and glared. “We’s ain’t supposed ta let ya through. Ya’ve been banned, dumb ass.”

Race rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m just here to smooth tings over wit Spot, and then I’ll be on my way.” 

The two kids shared a look and finally the little one spoke up. “It won’t hurt to ask Spot if it’s okay, right? I’ll go get ‘im. I’ll be real quick!” He was already running off toward the Brooklyn lodging house without waiting for permission. The taller one just scoffed and Race smirked. 

“Well I ain’t takin’ the blame when Spot beats your ass.” The kid muttered as he leaned against the Bridge.

They both stood in silence as they waited for the little one to return. The kid offered Race a cigarette, and Race grabbed one, thankful for the stress reliever. Only about ten or fifteen minutes passed before they saw a figure running up to them in the dark. The little kid took a second to catch his breath and Race held his until the kid finally said, “Spot says he’ll talk to ya, but he’ll only give yous ten minutes. C’mon, follow me.”

Race let out a sigh of relief but under his breath added, “I know where it is, ya don’t have to take me.” The kids didn’t hear him, or more likely ignored him, not wanting to miss this inevitable trainwreck. As the lodging house came into view, Race was starting to drag his feet a bit. He really didn’t want to go in there and face a probably still pissed off Spot. Then again, Spot agreeing to talk to him was a good sign, and it wasn’t like he could turn back now.

The little one opened the front door of the lodging house but didn’t hold it open for the other two. Race rolled his eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. Inside were only about twenty or so newsies on the main floor. Spot was sitting on top of the front desk so he seemed about half a head taller than everyone else. He was turned away from the door and chatting with someone, or maybe he was yelling at them? Race couldn’t really tell over all the commotion. But as soon as Race actually stepped foot into the lodging house, everyone immediately fell silent and turned to stare. Spot paused and slowly turned his head toward Race. Spot glared at him and Race simply glared right back. After what seemed like an eternity, Spot just smirked and raised an eyebrow, silently giving him permission to state his case. Race crossed the room and stood in front of him. He hated that Spot wouldn’t get down from the desk so that they could at least be somewhat face to face. The way it was, Race had to look up at Spot, and that’s how Spot wanted it. 

“Clock’s tickin’, Racetrack. Better make this quick.” Spot’s voice was cold and Race took a deep breath.

“I came to apologize.”

“For what?” Spot asked innocently. The smirk sort of ruined the effect and made it pretty obvious that Spot wanted to make this as painful as possible. Race knew he deserved it, so he continued. 

“Earlier today. What I did was wrong. I shoulda never have kissed ya without warnin’ you or even kissed ya at all. And I just wanted to say-” Race paused. “I’m sorry.” There, he’d done it, he’d apologized. Race looked up at Spot, who did not look very forgiving. In fact, Spot was glaring at him and wasn’t saying anything. The entire room was dead silent, waiting for Spot’s response. 

“So? Am I allowed back in Brooklyn?” Race finally asked, after getting too impatient. 

“No.” Spot stated, simple and emotionless. He turned back to the kid he had been chatting with earlier and started talking to him again. The poor kid looked absolutely terrified. He kept glancing back at Race, not sure what to do. Race stood there in complete shock. Then the anger started to set in. He had come all this way and had actually  _ apologized. _ Spot was supposed to say he was welcome back in Brooklyn but instead he’d denied Race even the acceptance of the apology. 

Just as Race was about to say something else, Spot turned back to him and said, sounding completely bored, “Your ten minutes are up, Racetrack. Get off my turf. And if I’s ever see ya selling here again I’ll-” Spot didn’t get to finish his threat because now Race was really pissed and he grabbed Spot’s wrist and yanked hard. Spot was pulled off the desk and almost fell flat on his face. He was only saved because Race had already started dragging him to the door. The other newsies started to snicker but got cut off by Spot’s yelling. 

“What the fuck, Race! Get off me!” Spot pulled his hand free of Race’s grip, but after a second’s hesitation, he did still follow Race outside, only after giving everyone in the room one final glare as if daring them to question this decision.

They stepped out into the chilly air and Race stormed over to the nearest alleyway. He finally turned around to give Spot a glare. 

“Okay Race, why are we out here?” Spot sounded tired and all the hatred from his voice was gone.

“You were bein’ an ass in there,” Race sneered. Spot shrugged, so Race continued. “Every time you’re around anyone else, it’s like you’re a completely different person. I’m tired of it, Spot. Sometimes I don’t even know which Spot I’m talking to. I never know how to act around you.” Race sighed as Spot just stared at his feet. 

After a few moments of painful silence, Spot finally let out a laugh. Race looked up, confused. “I’m messin’ wit  _ your _ head, Race? I think ya got it backwards.” 

“Wha-”

“Remember the first day we met, Race?” The smile on Spot’s face didn’t really match his tone. “You came up ta me and helped me out. Lent me a few coins, taught me all da ins and outs of sellin’ papes. Oh, you were just so  _ nice _ .” Spot spit out the last word. 

“Spot, what does this have ta do wit-”

“Shut up, Racetrack. You had your ten minutes, now it’s my turn.” Race rolled his eyes, but let Spot continue. “You stayed by my side for a whole week. Even shared your profits wit me so I wouldn’t starve while I was still learnin’ the ropes. It’s like ya were determined not to let me die.” Spot paused and gave Race an ice cold smile. Race still had no idea where Spot was going with any of this, so he waited. 

“Then one morinin’ I wake up for the first circulation of papes and you. Weren’t. There. I thought ya just had some business to take care of and you’d be back, but I guess I  _ misjudged _ you. Y’know why, Race? I didn’t see you again for FIVE MONTHS!”

Now it was Race’s turn to feel bad. He opened his mouth to defend himself. To try and explain how he got caught up in helping Jack with Manhattan. Spot didn’t wait for an answer though. 

“You remember how I got my nickname, Race? Ya should, since yous the one that gave it ta me.” This time Spot did want an answer, so Race wracked his brain trying to remember. Most newsies got their names from a distinguishing feature or a habit that they had, but Spot didn’t fit in either category. Race stuttered out a few ums before it came obvious he did not in fact know.

Spot laughed. He always took on this fake cheerfulness when he was about to share something that was very personal to him. He used it to hide how nervous or insecure he was, but usually it just made whoever he was talking to extremely uncomfortable. “It’s ‘cause I was covered in spots.” Race just raised an eyebrow, completely lost. “Y’know, bruises and scrapes. Probably more spots than there was me.” Spot laughed again and Race was trying to put the pieces together as fast as he could. But he didn’t have to, because Spot did it for him. 

“It was my first day out of the Refuge.” All the cheeriness was gone and Spot just let it sink in. Race’s mouth fell open and he suddenly realized how much of an ass he must’ve seemed like to Spot all those years ago. Race had probably been the first person to treat Spot like an actual human being and then he just left with no warning.

Race closed his eyes and asked a question he wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “How long were you in the Refuge, Spot?”

“Four years. A poor orphan wit no parents can’t be left on his own. That would be cruel.” Spot was obviously mimicking something that had been told to him countless times.

Race opened his mouth to attempt to apologize but Spot cut him off. “I don’t want your sorries or sympathy, Race. That ain’t why I told you. I just want you to understand my confusion when I didn’t see ya for so long. I thought that I had finally made a friend. But I had to fight to the top of Brooklyn by myself, and guess who came to visit me, not a week after I was finally king? Oh that’s right.  _ You _ did. That day you asked me if you could sell in Sheepshead. And that’s when I started ta think maybe you were just using me. Ta get a better sellin’ spot.”

“C’mon Spot. Ya know that ain’t true,” Race whispered, but even to his own ears it sounded pathetic. 

“For the past couple years, you were starting to act more and more like the Race I met that first day. And I thought to myself that maybe we were actually friends. Maybe I had just misjudged. But today, you came up to me and  _ humiliated me _ in front of everyone. Now I don’t know what ta think. So will I let you back into Brooklyn?” Spot paused as if he was considering it.

“Hmm… That’s a tough one. NO!” Spot sneered at Race and then started to count on his fingers. “So I guess I’ll see you in...five months. Get out of my sight, Racetrack.” Spot turned and reentered the lodging house without looking back. 

As the door slammed shut behind him, Race found himself alone in the dark, in a city whose king and by default, his subjects, hated him. And the worst part of it, he thought, returning back to Manhattan with his head down, is that all of it was completely and entirely his own fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to get a lot farther into the plot with this chapter but these boys kind of took it away from me. I promise there will be some monster hunting happening in the next chapter since that was kind of the point of all this.


	3. Where's Race?

“C’mon, Jack… It's been almost a week. We should go look for him,” Mush muttered, while half leaning on Blink, half leaning on the large statue in Newsie Square.

Jack forced a smile on his face. “I'm sure Race is fine. He's probably just stayin’ in Brooklyn for a bit.”

“But he usually only stays for a couple a days at most…” Itey added quietly.

“Then he must be dead,” Skittery told them, completely matter-of-factly. 

“Race ain't dead!” Blink shouted at Skittery. “Stop being such an asshole.”

Skittery shrugged, totally aware of his constant negativity. But the comment bothered them all more than they wanted to let on. It wouldn't be the first time they found one of their friends dead in an alleyway.

“So stop worryin’ so much, youse giving me a headache.” Jack sighed, leaning his head on David. David blushed slightly and glanced up at everyone, but no one seemed to care or notice.

“Well I don care, I’m gonna go look for him. He could be hurt or somethin’ and I ain’t just gonna leave him out there by himself,” Mush announced. Blink quickly followed suit, getting up as well. Itey looked slightly torn between staying with Jack and leaving until Bumlets dragged him to his feet. 

David leveled a glare at Jack. “Come on. We’re helping too, he’s our friend, Jack.”

“Alright, alright. Mush and Blink, you take the Bowery. Itey, you and Skitts check Queens. Bumlets, you try the Bronx. Davey and I will go over to Brooklyn,” Jack sighed. 

The boys all set out to the different parts of New York City, checking each alleyway they passed and asking any newsie they saw if they’d seen him. The walk to Brooklyn was a quiet one. David glanced over at Jack occasionally, since it was rare for him to be this silent. It was obvious he was starting to get worried about Race. David decided it would be best to try and get Jack thinking about something else.

“Um so… how did Spot become leader of Brooklyn?” Jack looked up, surprised and a bit confused by the question.

“You don’t know?” Jack laughed. David shook his head so Jack continued. “He...uh… he killed the previous king.”. 

“What?! But that’s horrible!” Jack laughed at David’s shocked face.

“It’s just how things are in Brooklyn. Most kings don’t live that long.” Jack paused, thinking. “Actually, Spot’s probably ruled longer than any other king I’ve heard of.” 

They fell into a silence again as they crossed over into Brooklyn. They got all the way to the docks without being stopped by any newsies, which was odd. There were usually a few scouts keeping an eye out for anything suspicious that they could report back to Spot. At the docks, it wasn’t Spot up on the throne. It was his second in command, known as Copy Cat. He was barely twelve and the only reason Spot made him his second was because of how young and naive the kid was. Spot knew Copy Cat would never try to overthrow him.

“Wha do you think you’re doing up there, Copy? Where’s Spot?” Jack called. Copy Cat immediately lost his stoic expression and beamed down at Jack. 

“Spot’s been puttin’ me in charge for the last couple a days. He says he trusts me ta do everything he would do!” Copy Cat climbed down and the top of his head barely reached Jack’s shoulders. 

“It is how ya got your name,” Jack muttered just loud enough for David to hear as he rolled his eyes at the small kid. Then, as kindly as he could, Jack asked Copy Cat, “That’s great, but me and Dave need to talk to Spot, so if you could just tell us where’s he’s at... ” Jack trailed off.

“Why do ya need to talk ta him? I’m in charge!” Copy Cat was starting to get suspicious. 

“Well can ya keep a secret?” Jack bent down so he was at eye level with him. Copy Cat nodded enthusiastically. “Ya see, Race is missin’ and the last person who saw him was Spot. So me and Dave just want to ask if he’s seen him.” 

“Racetrack’s missin’!!” Copy Cat yelled, with his eyes wide. Jack just groaned. 

“So much for the secret,” David laughed. Copy Cat finally led them to the lodging house and pointed up the stairs. 

“He’s on the third floor,” he told them, then, a bit quieter, added, “I better not get in trouble for lettin’ yous up there.”  
“Thanks, Copy!” Jack called over his shoulder as he and David started to climb the steps two at a time. As Copy Cat nodded and left, David stopped. 

“Why would Spot leave Copy Cat in charge? Something must be wrong.” Jack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by someone else. 

“Why don’t ya just ask me, Mouth?” Spot was standing on the top step, glaring down at the two of them. 

“Spot!” Jack grinned and started to climb the staircase again, but Spot stopped him. 

“C’mon, ya know only Brooklyn is allowed up these steps,” Spot reminded them as he ushered both back down to the main lobby. After they were all settled downstairs, Jack raised his eyebrow at Spot, waiting for an explanation. Spot looked from Jack over to David and back to Jack. Thankfully, Jack understood immediately. 

“Dave, could we talk in pri-” Jack started awkwardly.  

David stopped him. “Since Race isn’t here, I’ll just head back to Manhattan. Uh. Jack? Try and be back for dinner, I don’t think Mush’s heart could handle another friend bein’ absent.” David smiled as he walked out the door, leaving the two boys alone. 

“Okay Spot, what’s the problem? Why the sudden change in command?” Jack asked quietly.

“I thought if I could make Race feel how he made me feel, he’d understand what it was like. And he would beg me to let him come back. But he didn’t, he just left. And I...I-” Spot paused to take in a shaky breath. “I miss him.” 

Jack looked up, shocked at Spot’s bluntness. He’d never seen Spot look so young or tired. His usual proud posture was gone, and he was curled in on himself. He held onto the cane at his side more like it was a reassurance rather than a weapon. Jack Kelly would have bet his life on the fact that there were tears in Spot’s eyes. As they were about to make their way down his cheeks, Spot rubbed at them furiously.

“Spot… I’m sure Race misses you too,” Jack spoke softly.

“Then why isn’t he here?” Spot hissed, but his voice cracked on the last syllable and he put his head in his hands, determined not to let Jack see him cry. 

 

*****

 

“Any luck?” The look on most of the boy’s faces in the lodging house answered David’s question. “Well, I guess we can try again tomorrow-”  
Just then Itey stampeded up the stairs and almost barreled right into David. “Guys! Guys, we found him!” Itey gasped out, having run the entire way back. At this, everyone stood up and made a mad dash outside. Skittery was just coming down the street with an unconscious Racetrack over his shoulder. Mush was the first to reach them. 

“Race! Race, it’s me, Mush! What happened to him?” Mush turned frantically to Skittery when he got no response from Race. 

“He just needs some sleep. We found him passed out in some random alley. I think he drank too much. Itey found a couple a’ empty bottles lyin’ next to him,” Skittery explained. All of the newsies crowded around and helped to get Racetrack upstairs and into his bed. 

Race didn’t wake up until late morning the next day. His headache was probably one of his worst ones to date. He didn’t usually drink that much at a time since he would rather spend the money at the track. Race tried to get up in the small bunk, but Jack was there to push him back down. 

“Best not get up just yet,” Jack warned. “You’d probably fall flat on your face.”

“Why aren’t you out sellin’ right now?” Race asked, confused.

“Figure I’d stay ta make sure you were taken care of. Ya need anythin’?” Jack stood up. 

“Some water would be great. My throat’s killin’ me.” Jack wandered off to find a slightly clean glass and Race sat up in bed. 

He felt slightly dizzy, but the crinkling sound coming from his pocket caught his attention. He dug around and found a small scrap of paper that looked like a business card. On the front, big letters spelled, “Regrets? Too bad.” Underneath was an address that Race didn’t recognize. Jack came back in and set Race’s water on the side table next to the bed. 

“Wha’s that?” Jack asked, curiosity immediately getting the best of him. 

Race held it up for him to read. “No idea, just found it in my pocket.” 

Jack shrugged. “Probably just some joke about the massive hangover someone knew you’d get.” Race nodded and crumpled the card in his hand, letting it fall to the ground. 

“So, Jack…” Race looked up to meet his eyes. “Why did you actually stay home from sellin’ today?”  
Jack blushed, embarrassed to be caught in his lie. “Actually, I promised Spot I’d let him know as soon as we were sure you were okay.”

Race scoffed. “Oh didn’t you hear, Jack? Spot doesn’t really care about me. I’m banned from Brooklyn.” 

“C’mon, Race. Y’know that’s not true,” Jack argued tiredly. 

Race glowered at his glass of water and picked up a cigar, which Jack lit for him. 

“How about you go tell him that you’re feeling better yourself. I’ll come with you,” Jack suggested.

“Spot won’t want ta talk to me,” Race muttered. The smoke from the cigar definitely wasn’t helping his sore throat, but the muscle memory was reassuring. 

“Trust me, he’ll want to see you. And he’ll want to know what happened to you.” Then, quieter, Jack added, “We all do.”

“Fine, I’ll go. But honestly, Jack, I don’t really remember much from last night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for such a late chapter. Final exams took over my life for a bit, but now that i'm on winter break i'll hopefully have more time to write. I have yet to get to any monsters, these boys are taking the story away from me... There's almost always one half of Sprace crying in each of my chapters. I'm sorry about that but thanks so much for all the support!  
> Next time: Yet another visit to Brooklyn...


	4. What did Race do

A couple of snowflakes were falling lazily from the sky. Race had dragged his feet about going to Brooklyn so it was midday before Jack was finally able to push him out the door. The closer the two got to Brooklyn, the slower Race walked. 

Jack sighed and turned to look at Race, “C’mon you’re makin’ this a bigger deal than it needs ta be.” They were at the edge of the Bridge now and Race had stopped  walking altogether. 

“I ain’t allowed in there, okay? So if you want me to talk ta Spot so bad, you’ll haf to go get him. I’m not gonna disobey him and make him even more mad at me,” Race frowned and kicked at the ground. 

Jack already started to cross the Bridge and called over his shoulder, “Fine, but you better stay right there and don’ even think about leavin’.”

Race rolled his eyes and pulled out a half used cigar. He stuck it in between his teeth, not bothering to light it. Next, he dug around in his vest pocket until he found his old pack of playing cards. All the edges were worn on them and most were bent. Race started mindlessly shuffling them. The almost natural movement of his hands was always relaxing. Race really didn’t want to look like a nervous wreck when Spot finally got here. After a couple of minutes Race put the cards back away. If Spot were to see him shuffling them, Spot would know just how anxious Race was. Spot was always fast to learn someone’s nervous ticks. 

Race looked up to see Jack returning with Spot and Copy Cat following close behind. Race groaned. Spot was a lot to handle on his own, but Race wasn’t sure if he could deal with the miniature version of Spot, too. 

“Racetrack,” Spot greeted calmly. Race nodded his head in acknowledgement, but didn’t say anything else. The four fell into an unbearably awkward silence. Copy Cat was started shifting back and forth and Jack kept looking between the two of them, waiting for them to say something. 

Finally Jack opened his mouth to say something and Race and Spot slightly smirked at Jack’s inability to handle the quiet. “Sooo… Spot, you uh said you wanted to know when Race was up and feelin’ better…” Jack trailed off, not really knowing what else to say. 

Spot just glared at Jack, “Yeah, I guess I did. But why is he here?”

Race rolled his eyes, knowing he was being ignored. “Well, I’m up and feelin’ better,” Race didn’t let any emotion into his voice and turned to start to walk back home. Jack casually grabbed the back of his collar to keep him from leaving.

“Actually I was wonderin’ if you know anything ‘bout what happened to Race? He doesn’t remember much,” Jack smiled friendly. 

Race sighed, “It’s not like he had someone follow me around, Jack.”

At the same time Spot shrugged and said, “Yeah, I had someone follow him.” 

Race turned to look at Spot with wide eyes. “You had someone follow me?! What the hell, Spot!”

“I had to make sure you wouldn’t try to sneak back into Brooklyn.”

Copy Cat popped up next to Spot mimicking his posture. “Yeah he had to make sure you wouldn’t try to sneak back into Brooklyn.”

“Well that’s great! Now we can know what happened to Race,” Jack smiled ignoring Race’s glare. 

“Actually, he hasn’t reported back to me yet,” Spot turned to Copy Cat, “ Copy, can you go grab Mouse for me?” Copy Cat nodded and even saluted before quickly dashing off. 

Race grimaced. He had met Mouse a few times before and he was not a fan of the guy. “You had Mouse trail me?”

“What’s wrong with Mouse? He’s good at his job.” Spot said defensively. 

“He’s creepy as hell, Spot! The guy’s never said a word or probably made a sound in his entire life. He’s quiet as a… as…” Race trailed off, thinking. 

“A mouse?” Spot finished for him, smirking. Jack started laughing. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Race muttered and they all fell into a silence that lasted until Copy Cat came running back up to them with Mouse close behind. Jack had never met Mouse before since he didn’t spend near as much time in Brooklyn as Race did. The kid looked to be about 15 or so but was definitely tall for his age. His eyes kept flicking back and forth as if capturing every detail around him. It quickly became obvious the kid had no intentions of introducing himself or giving any sort of greeting so Jack held out his hand to him.

“Name’s Jack Kelly. I take it your Mouse?” Mouse just stared at Jack’s hand and gave a quick nod, before taking a step back behind Spot. Jack decided to continue, refusing to give up, “So, uh, Racetrack here was havin’ some trouble remembering what exactly it was that he did, um, when he left Brooklyn a few nights ago.” Mouse nodded again. “And Spot said that you trailed him… and that you’d know…” Jack trailed off, having no idea what to do, when Mouse just stared at him and didn’t volunteer any information. Jack turned to Spot, obviously confused, “Spot, is this some kinda joke? He ain’t gonna tell us anything.”

“Well you ain’t really givin’ him much time to respond,” Spot sighed and then tugged at Mouse’s sleeve. “C’mon Mouse, you wanna go talk somewhere a bit quieter?” Mouse looked around one more time before letting Spot drag him over to the nearest alley. 

Race finally pulled out a lighter to light the cigar still hanging from his mouth. “I don’ know what good takin’ him somewhere else is gonna do. The kid won’t talk to anyone.” Race stated to no one in particular.

Copy Cat immediately jumped up and with a wide grin and shook his head furiously, “Nuh-uh, you’re wrong! Mouse’ll talk to Spot! Mouse will tell Spot anything he wants to know. Mouse will only talk ta Spot though, but I’m tryin’ really hard to get him to talk ta me too. So far, it hasn’t worked yet…” Copy Cat frowned. 

“I wouldn’t want ta talk to ya either,” Race muttered. 

Copy Cat ignored him, now deep in thought, “Maybe if I just bribe him… Yeah that must be how Spot does it! But what would I bribe him with…”

“God, I’m surrounded by idiots,” Race sighed. Just as Jack was about to argue that fact, Spot and Mouse returned. Spot definitely did not look happy. 

“Racetrack, can I talk to ya alone for a sec?” Spot growled out. Race didn’t really have a choice since Spot was already dragging him away from the small group. After they were a few yards away Spot turned to face Race. And promptly slapped him hard across his face. 

“What the fuck, Spot!” Race yelled, throwing his hand up to his now burning cheek. 

“What were you thinking?!” Spot yelled back. “Where did you even get that shit?”

“Okay, I have no idea what you’re talking about so you’re gonna need to elaborate,”Race sighed pulling off his cap and running a hand through his hair. 

“Well then let me enlighten you, Racetrack,” Spot growled. “Mouse told me that after the first couple days, you started actin’ like some fuckin’ nut job! Talkin’ to yourself and shit, and I can only assume drugs or somethin’ were involved.”

Race’s eyes grew wide, “Mouse talked to ya? I guess Copy wasn’t lyin’ after all…”

“Race, c’mon! I’m serious!” Spot frowned.

“Okay, Okay, I’m sorry...Um,  well first off, Mouse must be the one lyin’ cause you know I wouldn’t waste money on drugs. Much rather spend it at the track,” Race just shrugged.

Spot still wasn’t satisfied, “Well what if someone just gave it to you?”

“Like for free?” Race thought about it for a second, then shook his head, “Still wouldn’t do it. That shit’s way too easy to get hooked on.”

“Then how would you explain what you were doin’?” Spot sighed.

“Well what was I talking about?” Spot frowned trying to remember what Mouse had told him. He had been so mad at Race he hadn’t really listened to the rest of it. Spot looked over to where Jack, Copy Cat, and Mouse were standing. Jack and Copy immediately turned the other way in a sad attempt to make it look like they hadn’t just been caught listening. Mouse stared straight back and Spot motioned for him to come over. Mouse immediately walked up to the two boys. 

Mouse looked at Spot expectantly and Spot asked, “What did you say Race was talkin’ about?” Mouse opened his mouth then shut again and glanced over to Race,

“It’s okay he’s…” Spot bit his lip, “ ...A friend.” Race raised an eyebrow at this but didn’t say anything. 

Finally after a few minutes, Mouse spoke. His voice was hoarse from lack of use and he barely spoke above a whisper. Race had to strain to hear him. “He was talking about you,” Mouse was speaking directly to Spot, having decided it would be best to just ignore Race’s presence. Spot waited for him to elaborate. “He was angry at first and confused… Then he was just sad.”

“So I was just ranting then?” Race guessed. Race glared at Spot, “That’s a completely normal thing to do, that would in no way involve drugs.”

Mouse looked angry, “No, not ranting. It was a conversation. Race was speaking with someone who wasn’t there.”

Spot raised an eyebrow, “Someone we know?”

“No, he never said a name. I don’t think Racetrack knew who they were either.” Mouse shook his head, then sounding confused added, “I think he was making a deal with them…”

“A drug deal?” Spot smirked. Race rolled his eyes. 

“No... ,” Mouse glanced at Race then back at Spot, “A deal to have you killed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapters a bit short, but I figured it be better to just post it now anyway. Let me know what you think of the OCs, I've kind of just been adding them where convenient...  
> Next time: The results of this deal Race made perhaps


	5. Race wouldn't do that, Right?

Jack burst through the door of Tibby’s, a huge grin on his face and laughing as he calls out to all the other newsboys, “Guess what? Race is gonna haf Spot murdered!”

Everyone turned to look at Race with wide eyes, but Race was laughing too as he made his entrance right behind Jack. 

“Don’ worry, I ain’t really gonna kill him. Mouse is just spreadin’ rumors that I will,” Race looked over at Jack smirking, “Can you believe that? The first time the kid opens his mouth is ta get Spot on me bad side.” 

“I mean, yous were probably pretty drunk too, so ya can’t really take anything you said seriously,” Itey piped up from Skittery’s side. Everyone nodded along and from that moment on, Manhattan ignored the rumors that started to float around about Race offing Spot.

The next morning, Race grabbed his papes and was about halfway to Sheepshead before he realized he wasn’t allowed to sell there anymore. He hadn’t really thought about how his fight with Spot would affect selling and his income. Race decided to choose the first street corner he found that didn’t already have a newsie carrying the banner.

Race was able to sell a few to the people on their way to work but no one knew him here like they did at the track. He was forced to “improve the truth” of every headline and still only managed to get rid of about 30 papers. On a usual day at Sheepshead, Race could’ve easily pushed 50 with these headlines. He trudged back to the lodging house discouraged. The next few days were almost exactly like the first and Race was at a loss for what to do. It wasn’t until he caught someone else selling out of the corner of his eye, that he figured out why business was always so slow. Mouse was there carrying the banner not 10 feet from where he was! Race stormed over and Mouse looked him up and down, looking bored.

“What do ya think you’re doin’! You’re takin’ all my business, you asshole!” Race hissed, balling his fists, preparing for a fight. “This ain’t even Brooklyn! Why’re you sellin’ here?”

Mouse glanced around before staring at his feet and whispering, “Spot told me to.” 

Race scoffed, “Don’t tell me dat Spot is actually takin’ precautions against me.”  Mouse didn’t really know what to say to that since that was exactly what Spot was doing. Race rolled his eyes, muttering, “I can’t believe this.” He left his remaining papers in the street as he turned and stormed off to go find Spot. 

It wasn’t until he heard Spot yelling out the headlines that Race realized he had never actually seen Spot sell before. He had kind of figured that Spot had someone do it for him. Or that he scared people into buying his papers. Race was definitely not prepared for what he saw before him. Spot’s signature sneer was gone and it was replaced by a pathetic pout. There was a bit of dirt smudged on his cheek and his newsie cap was gone. His hair wasn’t pushed back and instead was hanging in his face. Spot looked young and desperate, kind of like how Jack had coached Les to sell. Race’s anger slowly disappeared as he watched Spot sell a few of his papers, the scene in front of him was way too amusing to stay mad. 

Race casually walked up to Spot faking innocence, “Do you know where I can find the King of Brooklyn? I hear he strikes fear into da hearts of everyone ‘round him, but I don’ see him anywhere.” Spot’s sneer quickly took it’s place back on his face. 

“I don’ remember lettin’ you back inta Brooklyn, Racetrack,” Spot said casually, but it didn’t seem like he was going to do anything about it. 

Race looked shocked, “Spot? Is that you?” But the smirk kind of ruined the act.

Spot rolled his eyes, “Are you done?” Race nodded so Spot continued, “Shouldn’t you be sellin’ right now, too?”

Race suddenly remembered why he was here, “Well it’s kinda hard when someone’s tryna sell right next to ya.” 

Spot shrugged, “I’m just tryna protect myself.” 

“Yeah, but dat’s the thing, Spot. Ya’re tryna protect yourself from  _ me _ ,” Spot looked unmoved and Race was starting to get a bit exasperated, “C’mon Spot, it’s ME! I’d never hurt you’s!”

“Mouse would say otherwise,” Spot glared down at the shorter boy.

“You’re really gonna believe Mouse over ME! He’s just tryin’ to distract ya with this so he can take your place! Are you really that blind?” Race was yelling now, but he didn’t really care about all the attention they were attracting. However, Spot had an image to protect so he casually moved them both over to a small alleyway.

Spot quickly shook his head, “Mouse wouldn’t do that.”

“YES, he  _ would _ !” Race shouted. “Maybe you should be keepin’ watch over  _ him _ , ‘cause I would never want yous dead, Spot! I don’ know what I’d do if something ever happened to ya, ‘cause I really-” Race caught himself, “you mean a lot to me. You haf ta believe I’d never hurt you. I care too much to ever see anything happen to you and-” Race was suddenly cut off from his rambling by Spot’s lips crashing into his. The kiss only lasted a second and before he knew it, Spot was already pulling away.

“Wow, kissin’ someone really does get them ta shut up,” Spot said smirking. Race stared at him with wide eyes, not believing what just happened. “Since you kissed me without askin’, I figured I could do the same,” Spot shrugged. Race nodded, not being able to control his grin. Spot returned the grin with a small smile of his own, which was a rare sight. It quickly disappeared as Spot turned completely serious. 

“Let’s get a few things straight, Race. First, you don’ tell anyone ‘bout that. Ever. I can’t have my boys hearin’ about this. Which brings me to point number two. You don’t know shit ‘bout my boys, especially Mouse. So, stop tellin’ me what you think they’re gonna do.” It seemed fair enough, so Race agreed.

“Okay but you gotta trust me, Spot, so I don’t want ta see Mouse followin’ me anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll have someone else do it,” Race glared at him and Spot smirked, “Kidding. And uh, if ya want, I guess you can sell at Sheepshead again.” Race wrapped his arms around Spot and leaned his head on his shoulder. Spot’s face turned a light shade of pink, but luckily Race couldn’t see.

“Thanks, Spot.”

“You, um, mean a lot to me too, Racetrack,” Spot whispered.

 

*****

 

“Hey Davey, can you hand me another stack of papes?” Jack called over his shoulder, as they both walked over to a large group of people that they could sell to. David quickly passed some papers to Jack, realizing they still had forty or so to get rid of before they could call it a day. Les was somewhere selling some more “last papes”’ and David scanned the crowd for him. He finally found him, but Jack had already made his way  over to the small kid. They seemed to be talking to a couple of young ladies.

“Oh great,” David muttered, rushing over to them. Of course he was too late and Jack was already describing in great detail how he, the fearless strike leader, helped change the lives of millions. His flirtatious grin and smooth talking seemed to be working but David had no idea why. David simply walked up and grabbed the back of Jack’s shirt collar and started hauling him away. “God can you cut that out for one day? It’s starting to get annoying,” David groaned.

“You think I’m annoying?” Jack pouted, but started to laugh when he saw David’s eyeroll. Then he turned to Les, “Y’know you make a pretty great wingman.” Les beamed at what he assumed was a compliment. 

“Do I have to take care of everyone around here?” David sighed. Jack was about to make a joke about David being everyone’s mom when he saw Copy Cat running up to them. He looked like he had sprinted the whole way so Jack waited until he caught his breath. 

“Um… Hey Copy, what are you doing all the way in Manhattan?” Jack asked after not coming up with any reasonable answer on his own. But at Jack’s question, Copy Cat just started wailing. Jack turned to David having no idea what to do.

“Don’t look at me! You’re the one that made him cry!” David said at Jack with wide eyes. Les simply pushed both of the older boys aside and sat down next to where Copy had fallen to the ground in his hysterics.

“Hey it’s gonna be alright,” Les patted Copy’s back reassuringly. 

“No it ain’t! No it ain’t!” Copy Cat cried, sobbing loudly. 

“Well Jack used ta be a strike leader, so if anyone can fix what’s wrong, it’s him,” Les smiled encouragingly.

“Woah hold on, I’m not sure I can fix whatever this is,” Jack gestured at the sobbing mess that was Copy Cat.

“Well why don’t you start by telling us why you’re crying,” David sat down next to Copy Cat trying to make himself useful.

“It’s Spoooot! He’s gonna dieeee!” Copy wailed. 

Jack winced, “Are you talkin’ about what Race said, cause he didn’t really mean any of that…” Jack tried to explain. 

“No! Not that! I mean Spot’s actually dyin’, you piece of shit!” Copy yelled at Jack. David and Jack both froze for a moment, taking in what Copy Cat just said.

“You mean, Race actually…” Jack muttered to himself, before he jumped into action. “Okay Dave, you and Les take Copy over to Tibby’s or somethin’ and try to calm him down. I’m gonna run over ta Brooklyn…” Jack paused, trying to figure out the fastest way there.

“Someone’s gotta tell Race,” David whispered. 

“Well he’s back to sellin’ in Sheepshead right? Um...Ain’t Bumlets’ sellin’ spot near the bridge? I’ll get him to run over there to tell Race. He’s usually pretty good at dealin’ wit chaos,” David quickly agreed and Jack took off running. 

 

*****

 

Race finally sold his last paper of the morning edition and he had quite the handful of coins, weighing down his pockets. He grinned as he strode over to the betting window and laid down half his profits. He’d need the rest for the lodging house and dinner. “Twenty-five cents on Baby Blue, please.”

“Sure thing, Racetrack,” the man smiled and handed over a betting ticket and Race wandered over to the stands to grab a seat. He’d been selling here for about four years and he knew all the regulars and workers by name. However he refused to take part in the rigging of the races. He believed, knowing who was going to win each race took away all the excitement. He settled into his seat as his race was coming up. However a few minutes before the race started, Bumlets was standing in front of him. 

“Bumlets? What are you doing at the track? Nevermind, move over I can’t see,” Race shooed him away and Bumlets sat next to him. 

“Look Race there’s somethin’ ya need to know like, right now...It’s about Spot,” Bumlets started to prepare himself to tell Race when Race shushed him.

“C’mon Bum, I think it can wait a couple seconds, I actually bet on this one and I think I’m gonna win,” Race grinned at his friend.

Bumlets sighed, knowing he was going to be ignored until the race was over, “Spot is dead.” He knew it wasn’t exactly the truth, but at least it got Racetrack’s attention. 

“HE’S WHAT?” Race yelled, earning him a few glares from those around him.

“Well he ain’t dead yet, but he’s about ta be, so you should go to him,” whispered Bumlets, who was starting to regret the blunt approach.

Racetrack jumped up from his seat just as his race started, and he sprinted toward the Brooklyn Lodging House as fast as he could, his betting ticket left forgotten in the stands.

 

*****

 

“Where’s he at?” Race threw open the door to the lodging house. Jack was already there waiting for him and he walked up to Race as calmly as he could. 

“Um… Race maybe you should calm down a little first, Spot ain’t doin’ so good and seein’ you in hysterics ain’t gonna help him,” Jack put his hand on Race’s shoulder but Race shook it off. 

“Where is he, Kelly? I ain’t askin’ again,” Race growled moving past him. 

“Third floor,” Jack replied quickly pointing up the stairs. 

Race took the stairs three at a time but he passed Mouse on his way down. Mouse glared at him and Race shoved past him. He stopped short when he heard sobbing. Jack was right he couldn’t run in there the way he was. He took a few breaths to calm himself down and went up the last few stairs.

Nothing could have prepared him for what he saw. Most of the bunks were pushed to the side so that there was a lot of room around the bed in the center. There wasn’t anyone else in the room besides Spot.

“Oh Spot,” Race whispered, his eyes tearing up. Spot was wrapped in about five blankets stolen from the other beds, but Race could tell from where he stood, Spot was shivering. Spot’s face was flushed red due to all the heat the blankets were lending him. In between sobs, Spot was groaning and whining about the pain. There was a pool of red on his chest where he kept coughing up blood and Race couldn’t stand it anymore. He finally walked up to Spot’s side, so that Spot could see him. Spot tried his best to wipe away his tears, not wanting Race to see him like this. 

Race grabbed Spot’s hand and whispered, “I’m so sorry… I- I don’t know what to do.”

Spot shook his head, quieting Race and croaked out, “I thought you said you’d never hurt me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow this is a really long chapter! I hope you all enjoyed that really nice moment of fluff before we got back to the depressing af plot...  
> Next time: Spot. Sorry I can't really give anything away...


	6. Now what?

Race slumped down the last few steps, back onto the main floor of the Brooklyn lodging house. All heads snapped up to gauge his reaction. But Race simply sighed and turned to Mouse, who was standing in the corner. Race’s voice came out strained, “Spot, uh, wants to talk to ya again.” Race moved to the side so Mouse could get past him up the steps. Next, he turned and walked over to where Jack, David, and Bumlets were huddled together, who were all looking extremely out of place. 

Bumlets shifted uncomfortably but was the first to finally say something, “Did he, um Spot I mean, did he tell ya anything?” It was rare for Bumlets to ever stutter, he was usually so calm, but it was hard not to be tense when everyone in the room unconsciously leaned forward to hear Race’s reply. Race simply shook his head looking tired.

“Jack, why don’t you catch Race up with everything we know. Bum and I should head back to Manhattan and let everyone there know what happened,” David put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, but Jack wasn’t looking at Dave, he still hadn’t taken his eyes off Race. 

“Oh please, I'm sure Race knows exactly what happened,” Jack glared, crossing his arms.

“No he doesn't, Jack. He just said Spot didn't tell him,” David said slowly.

Jack finally turned to look at David, “Spot wouldn't need to tell him, cause Racetrack’s the one that did it.”

“You don't know that,” David said firmly, then sighed, “You've been acting like an idiot all day. Why don't you just go home with Bumlets, I'll stay and talk with Race.” 

Racetrack finally seemed to snap out of his daze, “Wait, people think  _ I’m _ the one that hurt Spot?”

“It’s kind a hard ta ignore the facts,” Jack sneered. 

“Oh, shut up, Kelly!” David snapped. He grabbed Race by the elbow and pulled him outside before Jack could say anything else. The two boys walked in silence for awhile, neither one knowing what to say. David steered both of them to a small restaurant and they took a table at the back. David ordered them both root beers and he sipped at his nervously before he finally spoke up. “Look, I believe you that you had nothin’ to do with Spot, but some people don’t,” Race opened his mouth to defend himself but David stopped him, “So why don’t I just tell you what we know?”

Race quickly nodded, “He looked sick…”

“Exactly, um actually that’s probably the only reason no one’s soaked ya. He’s not beaten up or anything and no one can find a wound on him, and yet he’s hackin’ up blood. This morning everyone went out to sell like normal, but when they came back they found him slumped next to the door of the lodging house.”

“Then why would anyone think I did it?” Race asked, but David just raised an eyebrow at him, “I- I mean besides all the rumors before sayin’ that I would.”

“Well there’s that and the fact that Spot kept cursin’ your name when they were taking him upstairs,” David shrugged. 

“Has Spot told anyone what happened to him, cause that seems kinda important.”

“Only Mouse, which is pretty much the same as not telling anyone,” David sighed. “Are you sure you don’t have any ideas about what happened, or who it was? Or some way we can find out? You know Spot better than anyone, does he have any enemies?”

“He’s the king of Brooklyn, he’s got lotsa enemies,” Race chuckled then fell quiet thinking it over. He started to chew his lip, deep in thought. David finished his root beer then grabbed Race’s, which sat untouched next to him. 

All of a sudden Race leapt up from his chair, and nearly knocked the whole table over in the process.  “Holy shit, Jack was wrong it wasn’t just some joke! Maybe it has somethin’ ta do with this!” Race started frantically digging through his pockets, then cursed when he couldn’t find what he was looking for. 

“Uh...Wha…?” David stood up too as Race was already running for the door. 

“There’s no time, I’ll explain on the way!”

 

*****

“C’mon Jack, I don’t think Race would ever hurt Spot,” Mush said from a top his bunk in the lodging house. Most of the boys decided not to sell the evening edition in order to deal with the current issue, which also included convincing Jack of Race’s innocence.

“He seemed pretty freaked out when I told him at the track,” Bumlets added. 

Jack sighed thinking it over, “I mean David believes he didn’t do it and Davey’s one a the smartest people I know. Maybe you’re right…”

Skittery rolled his eyes but Itey quickly nodded, “Yeah, David can figure out who it is. Him and Race probably already solved the whole thing and are comin’ here to tell us.” At that moment, they heard people running up the steps. Itey and Mush high fived, since even Itey hadn’t expected that to actually happen. 

Race burst into the room first but David was close behind. Dave leaned over, putting his hands on his knees, to catch his breath, “Why does everyone have to run everywhere?” No one answered because they were much to distracted by Race. He was tearing up the room looking for something. 

“C’mon, c’mon, it has to be here somewhere, no one cleans anything, c’mon,” Race was muttering to himself as he crawled on all fours checking under each bunk. 

Everyone turned back to David for an explanation, which he quickly gave, “Um Race said that when he woke up from that hangover a couple days ago, him and Jack were talking, and Race found a… um what was it again?”

“A card!” Race supplied quickly.

“Right a little card and on it there was a-”

“An address!” Jack yelped as realization hit him. He quickly started to help Race look. Everyone else stayed where they were, still not really sure what it was they were supposed to be looking for. 

Race was laid flat on the floor trying to reach under the nightstand that was next to his bed. His hand brushed something that felt like paper and he yanked it out and held it up in triumph. Race read the address out loud and looked up expectantly, “Does anyone know where this is? I’ve never heard a it.”

“Well I recognize the street, it’s in the Bronx,” Blink quickly supplied. 

“Okay, thanks, I gotta go,” Race was already heading for the door, but Jack stopped him. 

“I don’t think you should go alone. If there’s someone there that’s strong enough to take out Spot, you’re definitely gonna need backup.”

“You volunteering?” Race raised an eyebrow.

Jack sighed, and walked forward, “Yeah, I guess I am, let’s go.” They hurried outside into the frigid air and Jack was really wishing he had saved up for that jacket.

 

*****

Race and Jack were standing in front of a large ware house. The door was closed but there wasn’t a lock on it. They both took a deep breath and walked up to the door. “Okay um, plan of attack… we’ll burst through the doors, element a surprise and all that, and uh I’ll go in first, y’know since i’m bigger,”Jack was rambling and haphazard plan was cut short by a glare from Race. 

“I’m not  _ that  _ short…”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever let’s get this over with,” Jack pushed the door open and the two ran in. 

Jack stopped about ten paces ahead of Race and frowned. The warehouse was completely empty. There weren’t any crates or boxes, or more importantly people. Confused, Jack spoke to the empty space in front of him, “But if there’s nothin’ here then what did that card mean? If it really was a joke, then why even put an address on there? I was expecting an ambush or at least some kind a fight, but this is… just disappointing.” Jack turned to Race to mention they don’t have any leads to follow now, but stopped. All the color had drained from Race’s face and he was standing completely still. His eyes were wide and his mouth was hanging open.

“Um...Race? You okay?” 

Race was definitely not okay. Jack was wrong, the warehouse was not empty. Jack just couldn’t see it. Race had no idea why Jack couldn’t and his brain was having trouble processing what it was he saw. A few feet behind Jack was tall looming figure that rose about fifteen feet in the air. Its arms hung low with large claws brushing the floor. It wasn’t moving, but it was grinning showing all its long fangs. 

“Jack…” Race whispered, still stood frozen to where he was standing. 

“What’s wrong, ya look like you just saw a monster or somethin’,” Jack laughed walking towards Race. 

“Jack! RUN!” Race’s brain finally kick started again and he grabbed Jack’s arm and pulled him back through the door. He looked over his shoulder to get one last look at the thing, to see if it was following them. But it was still just standing there, smiling at Race and glaring. That was enough for Race, and he and Jack ran into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was a really short chapter, but it was important, because we finally got to monsters!!! I'm hoping to post a bit more frequently, so don't worry, you'll get some much needed answers soon!   
> Next time: what's actually wrong with Spot...


	7. WTH was that?!

Race and Jack burst through the front door of the lodging house. The two abruptly stop and Jack finally pulls his hand out of Race’s grip. All the boys looked up from where they had been waiting for Jack and Race to return. 

“Okay, what the hell was that? Why did you freak out? There wasn’t anything there,” Jack turned to Race, concerned. “I mean it was definitely empty inside, right?”

Race was having trouble forming words so he just shook his head quickly. Crutchie put an arm around Race’s shoulder, comforting him and giving him the courage to answer all the curious looks he was getting. 

“There- There was a um...a uh...it was big and tall and...it was a…” Race furrowed his brow trying to find the words to explain exactly what it was he saw. “It was there in the warehouse, a… monster.”

“A monster?” Jack laughed, “I mean, I hate to break it to you, Race, but there ain’t no such thing as monsters.” Race opened his mouth to defend himself but Jack wasn’t done. “And even if there  _ were _ monsters out there somewhere,” Jack paused and a few of the other guys snickered, “That don’t change the fact that the warehouse was empty.”

“No! I swear it was real and it was standin’ right there!” Race argued but Jack just rolled his eyes. “Look I don’t really understand it, but I know what I saw. And there was a monster and it was right in fron’ a you so maybe you’re just blind!”

“Guys stop it, I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation for this, we just have to figure out-” Crutchie’s attempt at solving the problem failed because Jack stomped up the stairs. Everyone was dead silent as they heard the footsteps stop, and then abruptly stomp back downstairs. 

“Why the fuck is Copycat sleepin’ in me bed?” Jack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Well, uh, Les and me got him to calm down from his cryin’ but then he was pretty worn out and I didn’t wanna make him walk all the way back to Brooklyn this late at night, so I said he could sleep here, and then-” Jack cut off Crutchie’s rambling explanation. 

“Where’s Dave?” Jack asked. 

“He took Les home since it was gettin’ late. He said we could just catch him up on everything tomorrow.” Crutchie quickly supplied.

Jack nodded, “Well if anyone needs me I’ll be at Dave’s.” Jack went out the door and headed to the Jacobs’ home. Everyone turned back to look at Racetrack. 

“I know it sounds crazy, but I know what I saw,” Race whispered to no one in particular, “And I can’t help but think it still has got somethan ta do wit Spot.”

Crutchie stepped forward, “Well you aren’t going anywhere tonight. Just wait til morning to go over to Brooklyn,” Race was about to argue with him but Crutchie stopped him, “And then you can take Copy with you. I’m worried about him makin’ the trip by himself anyway.” Race nodded reluctantly and headed up the stairs to get some much needed rest.

 

*****

Racetrack was woken up by the usual sound of Kloppman’s yells to start carrying the banner. He sat in bed and waited until all the other boys were out the door to sell, before he got up and started getting ready himself. Once he was finished he woke up Copycat who had somehow slept through all the morning commotion. He helped the kid brush his teeth and then quickly pulled him outside to begin the long walk to Brooklyn. Race grabbed them both something to eat, and with food in him, Copy finally started to wake up. Copycat rubbed at his eyes and turned to Race, “Do ya think Spot’ll be okay by the time we get back?”

Race bit at his lip not really wanting to crush the kid’s hope, “Um I don’ know, we’ll jus have to wait and see, I guess.”

Copy nodded, “I hope he’s back to normal, cause I don’t really wanna run Brooklyn without him there. Last time I was in charge, it wasn’t so bad since I knew he was gonna come back, but this time everyone kept sayin’ Spot was dyin’ and I- I don’t know what ta do without Spot…” Copy started to sniffle and Race definitely did not want to deal with a sobbing Copycat.

“Don’t worry, y’know Spot would never give up the throne this easily. He would definitely go out with a fight. And he would never leave you behind to run his beloved Brooklyn if he didn’t think you were ready to.” Race looked down at Copy and the smaller boy was nodding his head along in agreement. 

“Yeah, you’re right, Spot’ll be an old man before he finally lets me have Brooklyn,” Copy laughed and glanced up at Race. Race laughed along, glad that they had avoided a breakdown. Just then, Copy quickly grabbed Race’s hand as they were walking. Race didn’t say anything and gave Copy’s hand a small, reassuring squeeze as they crossed over into Brooklyn territory.

Copycat let the two of them into the Brooklyn lodging house, which was mostly empty because everyone was out selling. Copy let the door slam behind them and they could hear footsteps coming downstairs. 

Copy ran over the bottom of the stairs, “Spot, is ‘at you?!” Copy’s excited shout was met by silence as it was Mouse making his way down. Copycat immediately looked devastated. 

“Spot still up there?” Race asked. Mouse didn’t say anything but stepped aside so Race could get past him and up the stairs. Racetrack left Copycat behind to attempt a conversation with Mouse as he headed up. Race hesitated as he neared the room where Spot was. He still wasn’t exactly welcome here. Spot was sure the Race had betrayed his trust again, no matter how much Race insisted it had nothing to do with him. But after the weird occurance at the warehouse even Race wasn’t so sure anymore. He certainly didn’t remember ever wanting Spot dead, but then why would we have had that card with the address? Race shook his head to clear his thoughts as he entered the room quietly, expecting Spot to be sleeping. It wasn’t often any of them got a day off to sleep in. 

Race wasn’t completely wrong, but it would be more accurate to say the Spot was falling in and out of consciousness. And once again Race stopped dead in his tracks in the doorway. It wasn’t because of Spot’s condition, which he was worried about, but not near as much as the thing on Spot. It couldn’t have been more than a foot and half tall and it had a long, thick body that reminded Race of the big snakes he read about in the papers. From what Race could tell, it didn’t have a mouth, just one large eyeball. It was wrapped tightly around Spot’s middle, and was probably the reason Spot was gasping for breath. 

All the blood had drained from Race’s face and his mouth was hanging open in shock. Spot took notice of the look on his face and his eyes quickly widened in surprise. His voice came out as a hoarse whisper, “You can see it too, can’t you?” Race slowly nodded, not looking away from the thing that was slowly suffocating Spot. Spot took a shallow breath and added, “No one else can see it. Mouse thinks I’m crazy. You gotta help me, Race.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah! I'm so sorry! This was supposed to be done this weekend but life took over and it's another short one please forgive me! This chapter had a lot of Copycat, so I hope you don't mind, I just think he's adorable...  
> Anyway! Next time: Race figuring out how to help/heal Spot I guess... (I haven't actually planned out the next chapter at all so we'll just have to see)


	8. Why aren't you traumatized, Spot?

Race stood over Spot’s bedside, frozen with fear. Spot was having trouble getting any air into his lungs. “I-I don’t know what ta do!” Race whispered in a panic as he started to hyperventilate. 

Spot rolled his eyes, “Well I’d start by pulling it off me,dumbass,” the sarcastic comment seemed to help because Race quickly jumped into action. Surprisingly the thing wasn’t too hard to pry off, but it’s slimy texture caused Race to drop it on the floor in disgust. The door was closed so they didn’t have to worry about it escaping, but it quickly became clear that neither boy had any idea how to actually kill it. 

“Don’t you got your sling shot or somethin’ up here?” Race asked, hopefully.

“Yeah, of course, but Copy took the last of me shooters a couple days ago.” Race raised an eyebrow in confusion so Spot clarified, “Y’know, the ammo?”

Race nodded, “Well when a bug gets into the lodgin’ house it scares the younger ones, so we usually just squish it. We could try that, right?” Spot shrugged in agreement. Race looked down at the giant slug, which hadn’t moved since Race dropped it on the floor. He slowly raised his foot directly above and paused a moment before bringing it down as quickly as he could. But at the last second it slithered away and started to move randomly around the room. Spot, whose feet had been dangling off the side of the bed jumped up and was standing on top to avoid the thing. Race kept trying to hit it with his foot, but it alway got away at the last second.

“EW, God, kill it!! Kill it!” Spot yelled, following it with his finger.

“WHAT DO YA THINK I’M TRYING TO DO!”

Downstairs, Copycat was starting to get impatient. He hadn’t seen Spot since when he first found out Spot was hurt. Copy was dying to go up and check on his role model, but he knew that Spot probably wanted to be alone with Racetrack right now. Copy was the first to catch on that Spot wasn’t as mad at Race as he pretended to be. Copycat just can’t figure out why Spot would act so mad when it’s pretty obvious how much he actually cared about Race. Copy also wondered how Race was blind enough not to see it. His pondering was interrupted by shouting coming from upstairs, followed by loud crashing and stomping. Mouse heard it too and jumped up to go see what all the commotion was about. But Copy stopped him, “I’ll go!”

He took the steps two at a time, which was quite a large feat given is lack of height. The door slammed open to one of the strangest sights Copycat had ever seen. Spot was standing on top of his bed looking winded, but a lot better. Race however was madly stomping on the floor. Spot’s yelling and pointing at something on the ground was making Race more frantic, but Copy had no idea why, he didn’t see anything. He slowly turned back toward to the stairs, without taking his eyes off weird situation. 

“Mouse, come quick! Thay’ve both gone mad!” Right as the words escaped Copy’s mouth, Race’s foot finally connected with the giant slug slithering around the floor. The stomp smashed it and it made a horrid pop noise followed by a squish. It’s guts splattered all over the floor and Race’s shoe. Race immediately started gagging at the feeling and Spot stuck his tongue out in disgust. 

Mouse ran up the last few stairs and took one look at Race and Spot. Then glanced over at Copycat for an explanation. Copycat just shrugged, hopelessly confused. Spot slowly climbed down from the bed and staggered slightly since it’d been a few days since he’d been on his feet. He made his way over to Race and muttered, “We need to talk. Now.” Race nodded along and the two started for the door, but Mouse still stood in there way. 

“Mouse, C’mon me and Race has gotta go,” Spot explained quickly and started to tap his foot, waiting for Mouse to follow his orders. But Mouse just looked Spot up and down, concerned and still extremely confused. Spot just shook his head and shoved past him. “Not now, I’ll tell yous later,” he called over his shoulder. 

Copy seemed to snap out of his daze and peeked his head around Mouse, as Spot and Race descended the stairs. “Spot, where’s you goin’?” Copy was starting to get nervous, he just got his leader back and now Spot was leaving again. “Can’t you just stay and talk here? Me and Mouse won’t listen in, and-and even if we’s do hear somethin’ we ain’t supposed to, we won’t tell nobody! Right Mouse?” Copycat was blubbering now and on the verge of tears, “See Mouse agrees wit me, so you should stay here. Spot c’mon don’t leave! Or maybe I could come too? Just in case you need protectin’ or somethin’.” Copycat was getting desperate, as he called down the stairs. 

However, Spot completely ignored him and walked out the front door. Race glanced back at Copy, feeling bad for the kid, “Um don’t worry I’ll keep an eye on him.” And with that Race left too. 

It had been getting colder lately and today was no exception. Race grit his teeth against the biting wind and ran to catch up with Spot who was a couple paces ahead of him. 

“Don’t ya think you were a little hard on Copy? I mean the kid’s just worried about you,” Spot rolled his eyes at Race’s comment.

“He’ll get over it, he always does.”

“Ugh, but he looks up to you and you tend to treat him like shit. Copy’s devoted his life to being exactly like you, and yeah it’s annoyin’ for the rest of us, but it’s really sweet and you could benefit from being nicer to him.”

“What, ya want me ta go buy him some flowers? Would that cheer him up?” Spot replied sarcastically. 

“God! I don’t know! Maybe actually teach him how to run Brooklyn in case somethin’ happens to you!” Race was starting to get exasperated.

“Nothin’s happenin’ ta me anytime soon. I ain’t planning on kicking the bucket,” Spot spit out. 

“WHAT DO YOU CALL THAT THEN?!” Race shouted, pointing back at the lodging house.

“What, the monster thing?” Spot asked calmly and Race nodded. “Oh please, that’s not the first time someone’s tried to kill me. And that wasn’t even a very good attempt,” Spot shrugged, nonchalantly. “And anyway, you don’t seem that bothered by it either,” Spot paused, “Well at least not at the moment.”

“That’s cause this ain’t the first monster I’ve seen,” Race replied smugly, glad to finally boast about this to someone who actually believed him. Spot simply raised an eyebrow, asking Race to elaborate. So he did. Race explained all about the weird card, the scary encounter at the warehouse, and everything else. Spot listened patiently as they walked, only interrupting to clarify anything he didn’t understand. 

When Race was finally finished he turned to Spot, “Now it’s your turn.”

“To do what?”

“To finally tell me all about what happened to ya, since ya wouldn’t tell me the other day.” Race stared at his shoes not wanting to remember the betrayed look on Spot’s face from before.

“Alright then,” Spot paused to collect his thoughts. “I was out sellin’ papes like normal when suddenly I got knocked out.” Race was about to ask to elaborate, but Spot continued, “I mean, I can only assume that’s what happened, ‘cause I ain’t really sure. I don’t  remember seein’ anything out of the ordinary or hearin’ nothin’ strange.” Race nodded in understanding. He still didn’t know what happened the night he made the ‘deal’ that started all this. 

“When I woke up I was still a few blocks from the lodgin’ house, but I got there eventually. I wasn’t bruised or bleedin’ so I figured I’d be okay once I slept it off. But soon I started hackin’ up blood and coughin real bad. Mouse took me upstairs to try and help but I just kept gettin’ worse. At this point I was starting to think this might be how I die and I was getting worried so I sent Copy ta go get ya.” Spot looked down at his shoes, beet red, and casually as he could, brushed his fingers against Race’s, as they walked. A blush started to crawl up Race’s face too at the thought that he was the first person Spot wanted beside him. Spot coughed awkwardly and continued on with his story. 

“While you were on your way over, I guess I started thinkin’ that maybe this attack had something ta do with you. I don’t know, it was dumb,” Spot said, shrugging it off. “But right after you left I started coughing up more and more blood and every breath hurt more than the last until all of a sudden…” Spot stopped, lost in the memory.

“Well, what happened?” Race asked eagerly.

“I coughed up that slug. It was smaller at the time, probably the size of me fist. It latched onto me chest and I started screamin and Mouse thought I was going crazy. I tried to explain to him that there was a monster on me, but he couldn’t see it.”

“Wait, wait, wait. The monster was inside ya?! And you aren’t worried there might be more?!” Spot shrugged. 

“I guess I could try and make myself puke, just to be safe.”

“Just watch Sarah kiss Jack. That always makes me want to throw up,” Race suggested and Spot laughed before getting back to the story. 

“Anyway, I swore to Mouse it was slowly gettin bigger and bigger with every breath I took. And as it grew it kept getting tighter around me middle, which made it real hard to get any air in. I was starting ta lose hope. Well until you saved me this morning.” Spot looked up, a light blush still on his cheeks. “Thanks for coming back, Race.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is...Is this what an update looks like? It's been so long idek anymore. This isn't the long chapter I promised but I figured you guys would rather just have this now then wait longer.   
> I feel like Spot is just really chill about all this but idk why. I hope you all enjoyed the nice little moments of blushy Sprace in this.  
> Next time: Honestly i'm not sure yet, but maybe Spot amongst all the Manhattan boys


	9. Who's Charlie?

“I’m startin’ to get worried ‘bout him, Davey. He’s scarin’ me. Race kept insisting that he saw stuff that wasn’t ever there. I’da seen if it was cause I was with him. That warehouse was empty,” Jack whispered to David. He had kept David up all last night telling him what happened. He continued talking all the way through selling papers, and now at Newsie Square he was still going on about it. “What if he’s loosin’ it, Dave? I’ve known Racetrack for forever and I just can’t stand the thought of-”

“Jack, Race isn’t going crazy,” David sighed, putting a hand on Jack’s shoulder.

“Then how do you explain-”  
“I don’t know!” David took a breath to regain his composure, “But what you’re doing isn’t helping anyone. You’ve been freaking out and when all your boys see that you’re worried, they start to get scared. You need maintain the face of a calm and reassuring leader. Jack, these kids look up to you. I know you’re worried about Race, we all are, but I’m sure this will all get figured out soon.”

“Thanks, Davey. It’s just I feel like all this stuff is going on and I can’t do nothin’ to stop it. And- Well speak of the devil,” Jack looked up as Race and Spot made their way towards the huge statue at the center of Newsie Square.

At the sight of Race a few of the younger boys jumped up to greet him, but quickly became weary when they saw Spot with him. 

“Ya miss me, Kelly?” Spot called out over the commotion of all the side conversations.

“Gave everyone quite a scare, didn’t you? Guess I got my hopes up for nothing,” Jack laughed and Spot gave him a dramatic eye roll.

Race and Spot made their way into the middle of the crowd so they had everyone’s attention. “Hey Dave, you’ll never guess what it was that hurt Spot,” Race stage whispered. He waited for David’s sarcastic ‘what’ before continuing. “It was a monster! And Spot could see it too, right Spotty?”

“Yeah I saw it… after I puked it up!” All the younger boys gasped and even the older ones were gaping. Spot couldn’t help but soak up the attention. “Me and Race killed though so you don’t haf ta worry. Race held it down and I stabbed it right in its heart!” The small newsies cheered, caught up in the dramatic story.

“Wait so now you both can see monsters?” Kid Blink sounded skeptical.

“What, you jealous?” Spot stood inches away from, attempting to intimidate Blink, but Race shoved him away. 

“Well what are you guys gonna do now? Go look for more monsters ta fight?” Mush asked.

Race opened his mouth to respond but stopped. He had never really thought that far ahead. Lately he was only really worried about making sure Spot was safe. Now that he was, Mush had a point. It certainly wasn’t normal for monster to be running around New York. “Me and Spot don’t know nothin’ ‘bout fightin’ monsters. I mean I don’t know where ta even start.”

The newsies quieted down all trying to come up with the best solution for their friend. “Why don’t you just ask Charlie?” Everyone turned to look at the source of the whisper. Itey shifted back and forth, uncomfortable with the sudden attention.

Spot quickly rounded on Itey and got in his face, “What are you talking about?”

Race sighed. Intimidation would never work with Itey. The poor kid was hopelessly shy and attention just made him anxious. One glance at him confirmed it. A terrified Itey looked from Spot over to Skittery, silently begging for his help. Skitts stepped in front of Itey, pushing him away then turned back to face Spot. “You never heard a Charlie? I guess Brooklyn don’t gossip as much as the rest a us.” Spot leveled a glare at Skittery, so he quickly explained. “Charlie used ta be a newsie too, ya see, and he was pretty good at it until-” Skittery got cut off by Itey who seemed to have regained a bit of courage.

“One day Charlie claimed ta seeing things! Ya know, monsters and things that were never there. Kinda like you guys! He was craaaazy!” Itey was laughing but froze and his eyes went wide, “Not that I think  _ you’re _ crazy! It’s just that-”

Spot rolled his eyes, “So you think this nut job could actually help us find some answers?”

“I mean it’s worth a shot right?” Bumlets asked. Race shrugged so Bumlets continued, “Me and Boots can probably track him down for you guys before the end of the day.” Bumlets grabbed Boots’ hand and dragged him down the streets towards some of the larger factories.

Jack turned back to the entire group, “Charlie might finally be able to explain to all of us what’s been going on lately.” The boys cheered, but Spot still wasn’t sure.

“Hey Race, can I talk ta ya?” Spot whispered and tilted his head toward a much quieter alleyway. Racetrack immediately followed and turned to Spot excitedly.

“This is great! Maybe Charlie actually understands what’s been goin’ on with these monsters and can train us to fight ‘em! Or maybe he knows why the two of us can suddenly see the monsters and he can explain…” Race trailed off when he looked at Spot’s face. “Hey, What’s wrong?”

“I still ain’t sure this is such a good idea…”

“What, why not? He could have some of the answers we so desperately need.”

“Just- What if he really is a loon? He turns out to be a guy that just got too caught up in the liquor and it was all in his head? Then what? We track down anyone in New York who’s claimed to see a monster? If- If this guy turns out to be a flop, it’s gonna make the two of us look pretty bad. If my boys start comparin’ me ta crazies, I’ll be dead by morning.”

“I ain’t gonna let that happen, okay?” Race slipped his arms around Spot’s small waist. 

“Ya promise?” Spot leaned forward

“Yeah, I promise, ‘cause without you I probably would just be some crazy nutjob.” Race started closing the space between them. Spot smirked and bent down slightly to match Race’s lack of height. 

“There you guys are! Boots and Bums are already back and they-WOAH! Wha-What are you two doing!?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'm so so sorry for lack of an update! As an apology I'll have another chapter up this weekend! Also I now have a beta!! They're going through a chapter at a time fixing all my crappy mistakes, so when they're done I'll update this with all the changes.   
> Next time: Who found Spot and Race and then some Charlie


	10. Is this the right address?

“David?!” Race yelped. Spot and Racetrack immediately sprung apart. Spot’s back slammed against the opposite wall of the alley, and he bared his teeth at poor David. Race stood there trying to remember how to form words. All three boys were at a complete loss for what to do next. 

It was finally David who spoke up, “You two don’t have ta worry, I- I won’t tell anyone that you guys are-”

“It ain’t like that!” Race cut him off and stole a glance at Spot before continuing, “We’s were jus’ talking.” It was a horrible excuse, but Race’s brain wasn’t providing a better one. Race was just praying that Davey hadn’t seen too much and he actually believed it. 

Spot voiced Race’s concern with a glare, “How much did ya see, Mouth?”

David bit his lip and avoided meeting Spot’s eyes, “‘nough ta know you two weren’t ‘just talking’. But don’t worry your secrets safe.”

Race wanted to believe David, but he still wasn’t sure he knew the guy well enough to trust him with something so important. Race glanced over at Spot. Spot still hadn’t moved from his spot on the wall. He was probably going through all the possible ways he could kill David. Race sighed. He liked Davey too much to let Spot kill him.

Race put his hand on Spot’s shoulder, “C’mon Spot he said he wouldn’t tell.”

Spot shrugged his hand away and got in David’s face, “If I ever find out that you told someone, or I even think you told someone- Jack, your brother, i don’t care- I will make your life a living hell, before I kill you with my bare hands and shove your hat down you fucking throat.” Before David could respond to the threat, Spot pushed past him out of the alley. 

Racetrack watched Spot go, then turned to David. “I wouldn’t let him kill ya…probably,” Race smiled and Davey put his hands up in mock surrender.

“You have my word I-”

“I know, I know,” Race cut him off and put an arm around him, dragging him back toward Newsie Square where everyone was waiting. “Alright Bumlets, what’d ya find out?”

“Well me and Boots went to where we last heard he worked, but I guess he don’t work there no more cause there wasn’t any sign of him. Which isn’t that odd; people get hired and fired all the time,” Bumlets ran a hand through his hair and subconsciously glanced at David, remembering David’s dad. “Uh, anyway we asked around and we’re pretty sure we got his home address.”

“But we figured you two would want to be the ones to talk to him so we came back here,” Boots finished quickly.

“Fine, let’s go, Race,” Spot snatched the slip of paper with address and started walking away.

Race turned toward Bumlets and Boots before leaving, “Um, thanks, guys, this means a lot,” he gave them a smile before jogging to catch up with Spot.

“So, Spot, where does this guy live?”

Spot glanced at the paper and groaned, “Ugh, Queens.”

 

*****

 

The walk to Queens was a long one and they didn’t reach the address until supper time. 

“Well what are ya waitin’ for, knock on the door,” Spot slightly shoved Race forward.

“What, you suddenly forget how to knock?” Race joked before making a fist and banging on the door. 

A young woman opened the door, who looked to be in her mid-twenties. She had large bags under her eyes and was wearing a seamstress uniform. Race hesitated. He hadn’t really planned what he was going to say. He had assumed that it would be Charlie that answered the door and Race could figure it out from there. 

“We’re here to see mister… um… ta see mister…” Shit, Race realized that he didn’t actually know Charlie’s last name, Bumlets had never mentioned it. Thankfully, Spot stepped in.

“We need to talk to Charlie, miss, is he around?” Spot tried to peer around the woman to see inside. Race sighed. Apparently when asking for favors, Spot lacked tact. 

“Look I don’t know what you kids want, but there’s nothing here for you,” The woman’s voice was full of sadness. Immediately, Race was set on edge. That wasn’t a very normal response to strangers on your doorstep. 

Race tried to appear as nonthreatening as possible, “We jus’ want to ask him some questions and our friend said we might find him here.”

From back inside the house an older man was making his way to the door, “Anne, who is that at the door?”

Anne turned to him, “They say that they’re here to see Charlie.”

The old man squinted his eyes at the two boys on his front doorstep. He turned to Race for an explanation. 

“We’s uh, had some questions and a friend of ours suggested that Charlie might be able to give us some answers. He gave us this address to find him at,” Race tried to stay vague. He wasn’t sure how trustworthy these people were.

The old man raised an eyebrow, “Well your friend better check his sources ‘cause he got the wrong address.”

“Where can we find him?” Spot asked.

“Try the cemetery.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, I know, but it was a good stopping point. Also Spot has no social skills when it comes to talking to adults and I just find it really amusing.  
> Next time: Spot and Race find out some more about Charlie.


	11. What do we do now?

Race and Spot were met with a door slamming in their faces. Spot made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and stomped his foot hard against the wooden step. “Shit, Race, that was our only shot at understanding any of this! And the bastard’s gone and died on us! What are we supposed to do now?!” Spot yanked his cap off his head and started wringing it in his hands. “This day has just gone fuckin’ beautifully! First the Walkin’ Mouth sees us and-and he’s probably told everyone by now, cause that’s what I would do! Or he at least told Jack and we all know Jackie can’t keep his damn mouth shut! And then- and then this! I don’ get it, Race.” Spot took a deep breath to calm down and added quietly, “What’re we supposed ta do now?”

Race sighed, “I don’t know, Spot. It’s gettin’ pretty late. Should we spend the night here and deal wit this in the morning?”

Spot shook his head and took a seat on the bottom stair, “Nah, I got too many people here that wanna kill me.”

“Okaaay then should we start walkin’ back to Brooklyn or do you want ta go all the way to Manhattan?”

“If we’s go back to Brooklyn, I’ll have ta explain everything that’s happened and they’ll probably kill me since I’ll sound crazy, but if they suspect me a’ lyin’ they’ll kill me then too,” Spot replied glumly. 

“Well, Manhattan it is!” but Spot shook his head again so Race took a seat next to him waiting for an explanation. 

“Race, y’know we’ll both get killed if we go there right now. I’m sure David and Jack have told everyone about...” Spot trailed off as he glanced at their hands that were only an inch apart. 

Race took a deep breath, “I know that you don’t know David all that well, and that he’s still pretty new at carryin’ the banner, but he wouldn’t turn on his friends. Sure he might tell Jack, well I suppose that’s a given, those two can’t keep anything from eachother, but they’d never do anything to put either one of us in danger.” Race stood up and stretched. “C’mon we gotta hurry back to Manhattan if we want ta get there before Kloppmann closes the doors for the night.” Spot nodded and Race pulled him to his feet. 

Just as they were walking away, the door behind them opened again. It was the same woman as before, the old man had called her Anne. She spoke softly and quickly, “Thank God you boys are still here. I’m sorry but I had to wait for my father to retire to his room before I could give you this. I know the only reason you would want to see Charlie is if you were going to ask about his visions. It’s all anyone knows him for and it makes my father dreadfully angry. Charlie wrote about everything he saw in here and I’m sure he would want someone who might finally understand to have it. I’m sorry, it’s all I can do for you.” Anne pressed a small leather bound journal into Spot’s hands before disappearing back inside and shutting the door. Race and Spot stared at each other in stunned silence before racing back to the safety of Manhattan to look over their new gift. 

 

*****

The two boys stopped just outside the lodging house, neither one wanting to confront the barrage of questions they were bound to get if they went inside. “Come on, over here,” Race dragged Spot into the same alley as before. “Well open it! What does it say?” Race stood impatiently as Spot slowly undid the worn leather clasp and opened the journal to the first page. He scanned his eyes over the words a few times and started to bite his lip.

Spot looked up at Race and hesitated, “I don’t know what it says.” Before Race could say anything Spot continued quietly, “I never um, I never learned how to read.” Spot’s face was a deep scarlet and he looked back down at his shoes, hugging the book to his chest, preparing himself for Race to laugh and make fun of him.

“Oh,” Race sounded surprised but didn’t skip a beat, “Well that’s okay, give it here then, I’ll just read it out loud.” Race gently took the book from Spot’s hand and opened it back up. “Okay here we go-”

“‘Ey Race! Is that you down there? Get up here oh and bring Spot! All the boys want ta hear how it went!” Jack’s head was sticking out a second story window, but his grin faltered when he caught sight of how red Spot’s face still was. 

“Actually we’s were hopin’ to talk to you alone first if you don’t mind,” Race called up.

“Oh um sure, be right there,” Jack’s head disappeared from the window and Spot turned quickly to look at Race.

“What do you mean we gotta talk to Jackie?” Spot was already suspicious.

“Well you said you were worried that now Jack knows about us and if he’s told anyone so I thought we might as well ask him.” Race shrugged but Spot didn’t get a chance to argue because Jack appeared from around the corner. 

Race got right to the point, “Jack! Look we have to know… Did David tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” Jack attempted to feign innocence but one glare from Spot stopped him. He sighed, “Yes, okay, David told me about what happened, but  _ only  _ because of you, Spot. You made Davey scared for his life.” Spot was about to defend himself but Jack continued, “But you guys don’t have ta worry. I haven’t said a word about it to anyone else. Promise.” Jack put a hand to his heart and attempted to lighten up the mood, “I’m hurt you two would even  _ think _ I spread around your juicy gossip, who do you think I am?” Race rolled his eyes at Jack’s dramatics, but wasn’t able to stop the grin that slowly spread across his face. 

“Well I guess we better go upstairs. I’m sure all the boys are dyin’ ta hear what you guys found out in Queens.” As Race and Spot followed Jack into the lodging house, Race draped an arm around Spot and momentarily forgot about all his worries. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOW an update! I've been revived by Newsies Live and I promise I won't leave another month long gap before the next chapter. I'm also reposting the edited chapters that are done but don't worry nothing major has really changed.  
> Okay this was a bit of a filler chapter so Next Time: What's inside the journal


	12. So what does it say?

“Wait so all you got was this lousy book?” Blink called down from his bunk. Mush climbed up the side to join him as the rest of the boys gathered around.

“So what’s in it?” What’s it say?” Jack tried to make a grab for the journal but Race was faster and pushed him away.

“I don’t know. Someone interrupted before I could read it,” Race sent a glare towards Jack. “But it’s time to find out.” Race sat down on his bottom bunk but not before lighting a cigar. Spot sat completely rigid next to him, out of place in another borough’s lodging house. Everyone subconsciously leaned forward as Race’s eyes skimmed the first page.

It was only a matter of seconds before his eyes grew wide and he let out a small gasp. Spot leaned over and attempted to force the letters on the page to make sense simply by glaring at them. Sadly it didn’t work and he’d just have to wait for Race to explain it out loud. Race however was flipping through the pages as fast as he could, his eyes flying back and forth.

“Well don’t just read it in your head like an asshole. We’re all dyin’ to know what it says,” Skittery muttered from his spot a few bunks away.

“It’s- it’s a journal,” Race sounded astonished.

“Yeah we all figured that since y’know we have _eyes_ ,” Skittery glanced around the room and then smirked while staring at Blink, “Most of us that is.” His comment earned him a punch in the shoulder, but he couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Race sighed, “No I mean, Charlie kept a um a diary sort of, that’s full of everything he saw. And it’s amazing.” A quick skim of the room proved no one was impressed. “It’s the monsters! He saw monsters! And he recorded what it was he saw here in this book! Detailed descriptions! Drawings! This is the answer we’ve been searching for!” Race was standing up, excited to finally have something tangible to prove he hasn’t been making it all up.

“Pictures?” Spot snatched the journal from Race’s hands and began flipping through it. Finally something he could understand. He stopped at the first drawing that caught his attention. “Ey Race, look it’s that-that thing that tried to suffocate me!”

“What? Where? Show me,” Race leaned to the side to look over Spot’s shoulder. Sure enough there was a crude yet recognizable sketch of the slug that almost took Spot’s life at the top of the page. Underneath was a short description and Race read it aloud for Spot, “Starting at the size of a thumb, if ingested the Coffin Serpent will feed on the insides of its victim. Once it’s about a foot long, the Coffin Serpent will exit and constrict the victim, slowly suffocating it to death.”

Spot raised an eyebrow, “The Coffin Serpent eh? So he named him besides just studying them.”

“It’s getting pretty late and the Brooklyn lodgin’ house it bound to close soon. You’se best get going, Spot.” Jack made it sound as casual as he could but everyone knew Spot wasn’t welcome to stay the night. Each borough stuck to their own lodging house, Jack bent the rules already letting Spot even come up the stairs.

Spot stood up slowly to leave but Race stood up as well. “Oh come on Jack, you and I both know well enough that by the time Spot makes it back to Brooklyn his lodging house will be closed for the night. He can just stay here for one night can’t he? I mean you can’t let a king sleep on the streets.”

Everyone in the room fell deathly silent. This was an unusual test of Race’s power over Jack. If Jack made Spot leave, all of Brooklyn would be out to soak him for disrespecting their leader. But if Jack let Spot stay, he’d be breaking one of the most fundamental newsie rules there was. Race left him with a hard decision but Jack knew how he could get out of it. He turned to address the whole room, “Well why don’t we just leave it to all of you to decide. Can Spot stay?”

All the boys held their breath waiting for someone else to speak first. It was Bumlets who finally broke the silence, “I don’t really mind him stayin’ except there’s one problem.”

“And what’s that?” Race was already defensive but Spot hadn’t moved from his place next to Race’s bunk.

“Not enough beds.” Everyone looked around the room. It was true, some of the boys were already having to double up to make room as it was. Manhattan didn’t have any spare beds.

Suddenly Jack smiled, he knew exactly how to get back at Race. “Well I don’t see why Spot and Race can’t share. Any objections?” The look on Spot’s face and the blush covering Race’s was enough of a revenge for Jack. All the newsies quickly agreed, happy to avoid a fight with the Brooklyn king or Race. Jack beamed, oh how he was enjoying this, “Perfect, see ya in the morning boys,” Jack blew out the candle near his bunk and the rest of the newsies followed suit. It was a long time before either Spot or Race could fall asleep. They laid there facing opposite directions just like all the other boys that had to share a bunk, except both their faces were a deep shade of crimson and they laid there perfectly still, not wanting to accidentally brush against the other boy.

 

*****

By the time Race woke up along with all the other newsies, Spot was already gone. Race crossed his fingers hoping that Spot’s explanation to all his royal subjects went well. He decided to sell with Jack, David and Les for the day since he needed to ask a favor of Dave. They only had a few papes left to get rid off so they handed them off to Les and Jack.

“Um Davey, I was wonderin’ if you could help me out,” David looked at Race to continue, “Ya see I was hoping to borrow some of your old school books?”

“Of course, I don’t mind. Which ones?”

“Some of those kid books that teach ya how to read. I thought it might help me to teach the little ones.” Race didn’t want to reveal Spot’s secret to David, not after Spot already didn’t trust him.

“Well I passed those on to Les a while ago, but Les doesn’t need them anymore either. Jack’s coming home with us for lunch if you want to tag along.”

Race nodded, “But I can’t stay long, I’ve got to go check on Spot.”

 

*****

Race made his way toward the Brooklyn docks, school books under one arm, the precious journal under the other. He and Spot still had a few hours before they’d have to sell the evening edition and Race didn’t want to waste a minute of it.

“Spot!” Race called out, relief flooding over him. Spot was back at his usual place on the throne, which meant his explanation to his boys must have gone well. Spot acknowledged his presence with a quick nod of the head before turning back to finish his conversation with Copycat. Race wandered over to a group of newsies and played a few rounds of cards while he waited. It was only a matter of minutes before Copy ran up to greet Race and Spot wasn’t far behind. The rest of the boys backed off, giving them a sense of privacy.

“Race! Are you here to help Spot save the world?!” Copy grinned up at him eagerly awaiting his response.

“...What?” Race looked between Spot and Copy, completely lost.

Spot threw an arm around Copy’s small body before hunching down to his level. “Of course he is, but the two of us have gotta talk alone now, so why don’t you try handling Brooklyn on your own for a bit just like I taught you. Think you can do that?”

Copycat nodded enthusiastically before putting on a serious face and saluting as he ran off. Spot motioned for Race to follow him, “Come on, the lodging house is usually empty about this time.”

“So… Saving the world?” Race asked curiously as they walked away from the docks.

Spot shrugged nonchalantly, “What? I told them I was gifted these powers to help save humanity.”

Race stared in disbelief, “You told them you were some kind of godsend… and they believed you?” Spot smirked as he held open the door to the lodging house for the two of them. The only person inside was Mouse, who was reading a book.

“Perfect, just the person I wanted to see! Could you do me a favor and keep an eye on Copy? I put him in charge and I don’t want Brooklyn to be burned to the ground when I get back.” Mouse nodded and left, leaving the two boys alone.

“So are you here to read to me more of the journal? You better not have read ahead without me.” Spot took a seat in the worn out sofa and motioned for Race to sit as well.

“Actually,” Race paused to pull out the school books and hand them to Spot, “I thought maybe we could try reading it together, after a bit of practice of course.”

Spot realized Race’s plan, and glared at him. “Fine but you better not laugh when I fuck it up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter would be longer but most of it's just dialogue. Anyway tell me what you think, comments and kudos keep me going!  
> Next time: teaching Spot to read is a difficult task


	13. What attacked you?

“How long is this going to take?” Spot groaned from where he was slumped on the couch.

“We’re only halfway through the alphabet.” Spot groaned dramatically again but sat up. “Okay next letter is ‘P’,” Race demonstrated the ‘P’ sound and said it again. 

Spot looked at him like he’d lost it and spoke very slowly, “I know how to say the fucking letters, Race, it’s the reading em part that’s giving me a bit of trouble,” Spot finished sarcastically.

Race rolled his eyes, “Well obviously, but it says in the book the first step to learning how to read is recognizing the letters.” They’d only been at this for about fifteen minutes but both of them were already running low on patience. Race decided a break would do them both some good. He shut the alphabet book and set it on the small table. “So how do you know the headlines if ya can’t read them?”

Spot smirked, “I just let Copy read them out loud for everyone before we leave to start selling.”

“Copy knows how to read?” Race raised an eyebrow. It was pretty uncommon for a kid as young as Copycat that’s never been to school to be able to read the headlines.

“Yeah, I guess his older brother must’ve taught him before abandoning the poor kid. I found Copy a few years ago and took him in. Back then he was just some snotty nosed brat that didn’t know how to survive on his own.”

Race glanced over to see Spot staring off into space. “That kid really looks up to you,” he added softly. 

“Yeah, no kidding. He’s called Copycat for a reason.” There was a loud knock on the door, followed by Copy calling from the other side. “Well, speak of the devil.” Spot tossed all the learner books under the couch and out of sight then stood to open the door for the newsie waiting outside. 

“Spot! Mouse said that this was beyond my capabilities as leader in training, but I think I can totally handle this, it’s just that I figured you’d probably want to know anyway so that you can tell Mouse how this is definitely something I can take care of and-”

“Copy! I have no idea what the hell you’re goin on about! So please just start from the beginning,” Spot took a deep breath to regain his composure. If this was something that Mouse believed was important enough to interrupt Spot’s limited free time for then it was probably a big deal.

“Cricket hadn’t checked back in after sellin this morning so I sent a few guys out to go find him.” Spot nodded his head in approval. One of his first rules as king was that everyone looked out for each other. Each of his newsies was to check in with him or in this case Copycat, to ensure that all of them are safe and accounted for. Spot had taught Copy that is someone is missing, sending a search party is top priority over everything.

“But a short bit later, they sent a runner back to me cause Cricket is pretty hurt,” Copy paused, trying to relate exactly what the runner told him. “They’s said he had three long um scratches like this,” Copy demonstrated by drawing his hand all the way from his left shoulder down to his opposite hip.

Race raised an eyebrow, “And how’d that happen?”

“That’s the thing, apparently Cricket doesn’t know how...The runner said it looks like claw marks, which doesn’t make any sense. I mean there’s no tigers runnin ‘round Brooklyn.”

Spot sighed, “But there are monsters.”

Race turned to look at Spot with concern, “You really think it was another monster?”

Spot shrugged, “Maybe. Copy, where was Cricket when he got hurt?”

“Um I don’t know, as soon as Mouse heard what happened he sent me to get you. But I’m sure that Cricket and the search party are probably back by now, so you can just ask him yourself.” Copycat led them back out to the docks where there was already a group of newsies huddled around, who Race assumed was Cricket. The kid looked to be about fourteen years old and his dark hair was slightly matted since he kept running his hands through it. His shirt had been cut away and the three long gashes were clearly visible and still dripping a bit of blood. Mouse was in the middle of bandaging him up while Cricket sat wincing atop a crate. He looked up when he saw Spot approaching. 

“Cricket, what the hell happened to you?” Spot said with a slight smile, relieved to see that his newsie was alive and at least conscious. 

“I-I don’t know. I finished selling and I went to get some lunch like I always do, ‘cept as soon as I was handed me meal, the owner kicked me out. He said he had a big group a rich customers comin in today and he didn’t want me botherin them,” Cricket paused to roll his eyes. “So I’s decide to just eat my sandwich in the alley next door, but as I’m walking down the alley where it’s a bit more out of the way, it’s like some invisible force slams me flat on me back. Outta no where I’m laying there with the wind knocked out of me and all of a sudden these appear,” Cricket motioned toward his now bandaged middle. “Felt like one of them big jungle cats was tryin to claw me right open, hurt like a sonuvabitch too, but I ain’t dyin that easy. I  _ am _ Brooklyn after all.”

Spot smiled proudly and threw an arm around his shoulder. “Well go back to the lodgin house and take it easy for a few days. I’ll make sure everyone sells a some extra papes for you and me and Race are gonna go investigate.”

“We’re gonna  _ what _ ? How do you expect us to fight this thing? We don’t have any weapons except your sling shot and our fists. We can’t even look it up in the journal ‘cause we have no idea what it looks like.”

“Does this not count as a weapon?” Spot waved his cane in front of Race’s face.

Race rolled his eyes, “You’re gonna poke a tiger with a stick? Let me know how that goes.”

“For your information, I was going to stab it.” Before Race could say anything else Spot twisted the top of his cane and it separated into two pieces to reveal a short sword hidden inside.

“What the fuck.”

Copycat grinned, “Woah! Spot that’s so awesome!”

“What the fuck?”

Spot’s smile mirrored Copy’s, “It’s for protection...and for slicing tigers in half.”

“This is it. This is how I die.”

Spot threw an arm around Race and started leading him toward Cricket’s selling spot, “Oh come on, all you Manhattan newsies are such babies. And anyway we’re only gonna fight it if it attacks us first.” 

Luckily their destination was only about a ten minute walk and as they neared the restaurant Cricket had mentioned they stopped to devise a plan. “How about we climb up on that roof overlooking the alley. Then we can get a good look at it and hopefully we’ll be able to read about it in the journal and we’ll be out of it’s reach...probably.” Spot nodded his agreement and was already climbing up a fire escape. Race went to follow and added, “Let’s hope this isn’t a monster that jumps...or flies.”

Spot was the first to peer over the edge of the roof and he let out a low whistle, “Well lucky for us, looks like our friend is actually taking a break from flying.” Race peeked over into the alley as well and in a heap against the far wall was a sleeping monster. It’s body did sort of look like a tiger, except it’s thick fur was a dark shade of brown. But it wasn’t the big paws with long claws that caught Race’s attention, it was the two huge black bat-like wings coming from it’s back. Spot was right, the creature wasn’t going to be flying anytime soon. One wing had what looked like bites taken out of it and was torn to shreds and bleeding. Race gulped and pulled out the journal to start flipping through it.

“So what is it?” Spot whispered not taking his eyes off the thing down below.

“Here it is. It’s called a Nightwing Lynx. It says they’re one of the most territorial creatures he’s come across. However if you don’t intrude on it’s space they have a quite lax temperament. They’re nocturnal, hunting food at night...and that’s basically it.” Race skimmed the rest of the page and shrugged.

“Well this one seems to have been in a pretty vicious turf battle.”

“Should we still try and fight it?”

“It attacked one of my boys,” Spot spoke slowly, as if the answer was obvious.

Race sighed, “This seems like a bad idea.”

“Probably.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a bit longer to write then i wanted but i've already started the next chapter so don't worry. Also please welcome the new oc, Cricket! I'll probably reveal the reasoning behind his name later on so stay tuned!  
> Next time: Some monster fighting and deciding what to do next


	14. Are you sure we should kill it?

Both boys were still hunched over the roof edge trying to come up with a plan of attack. “Okay how about I just run at it with my sword while it’s still sleeping. I’ll get in a couple ‘a stabs before it wakes up and from there we can just improvise?”

Race simply answered Spot with glance.

“Yeah you’re right, that wouldn’t work at all. How about-”

“Spot, willya cut it out? I really don’t think we should kill this thing. I mean it’s obviously really hurt already and I think the only reason it attacked Cricket was because he was getting too close. Would it be so bad to just leave it be?” Race knew he was asking too much of Spot but he had to atleast try. 

“Yes. Yes, it would be bad, Race. Literally anyone could wander down this alley and get attacked. Cricket was just lucky, he could have died! And what if this Nightwing or whatever heals, then what? Maybe it’ll decide this little alley isn’t enough for it and it’ll try expanding it’s territory. Then all of Brooklyn’s in danger of bein’ mauled!” Spot sighed and lowered his voice again, remembering the sleeping monster beneath them. “C’mon y’know I’m right. I’m not that excited about killing a wounded animal either, but it has to be done, for the greater good and all that.”

“Yeah but what if we didn’t have to kill it. We could just like train it  _ not _ to kill people.” 

Spot looked over at him, “Race.”

“No! This could totally work. If we trained it, it could help us fight other monsters! It said in the journal it’s really calm, so it can’t be that hard and if I just-”

“It said it’s only calm as long as you don’t get too close, and to train it you’d have to get close so…”

“But it’s really hurt right now, so what if I like help it heal by bringing it food and all that, then it will learn to trust me and-”

“Race! Will ya cut it out?! This isn’t some wild horse you’re trying to train, it’s a monster. It’s not going to trust you it’s going to kill you!” Spot fixed his gaze on the Nightwing Lynx down below, “Why do you even care so much about this stupid monster?”

Race didn’t even hesitate, “Because it’s hurt and broken right now, but if I help it, maybe in the future it’ll help me.”

Suddenly Spot froze and his hands gripped the roof edge a bit tighter. His voice came out just above a whisper, “What did you just say?”

Race thought Spot heard him the first time but he repeated himself again anyway, “‘Cause it’s hurt and if I help it, maybe it’ll help me?”

Spot turned away from Race, walking back towards the fire escape and speaking over his shoulder, “That’s what I thought. Have fun training your stupid Lynx, die for all I care.”

“Spot, what the hell!” Race grabbed Spot’s shoulder and spun him back around but stopped when he saw Spot’s eyes full of tears.

“Just back off, okay?” Spot snarled, shoving Race away, but he didn’t try and leave this time.

“I don’t get it what did I do?”

“Is that what you do with everything you think is  _ hurt and broken _ ? Take them in and make them feel good about themselves, knowing that you’ll probably get something out of it in the long run?” Spot’s voice was full of hurt, but his face showed only anger now.

“Spot…” Race paused and then gasped, “Shit! Spot I- I wasn’t talking about you! I swear I wasn’t expecting anything in return when I first met you, I genuinely cared! You gotta believe me… I…” Race’s voice turned to a whisper, “You weren’t broken, Spot.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Spot said as sarcastically as possible. He rubbed at his eyes, forcing the tears away. “It’s hard _not_ to feel like complete shit after spending some time in the refuge.” Race stood there, not sure what to say and Spot quickly collected himself. “So how do ya plan on training that thing?”

Race looked up at him, surprised, “You really think I should try?” Spot shrugged but nodded. “Well I figured I’d use food since that’s how they train all those circus animals.”

Spot smirked, “You can barely afford to feed yourself, how do you expect to be able to feed a huge monster?”

“That’s where you come in.”

“Right, ‘cause I make sooo much money,” Spot said, rolling his eyes.

“I meant you could help me steal the food.”

Spot immediately shook his head, “No way. That’s how Jack got thrown into the refuge. Ain’t no way I’m risking you getting thrown in too just to feed that stupid thing.” 

“What do you suggest we do?” Race sighed.

“Well I think it’s about time we both realize this probably isn’t the only monster currently running around New York. So what if we just catch some and use that for food.”

“Sounds pretty dangerous…”

“So you’re in?”

Race smiled, “Of course. We can look through the journal to find one that’ll be easy to catch.”

 

*****

 

“David! Me and Spot gotta question to ask you,” Race shouted across Tibby’s, as he dragged Spot behind him toward David and Jack’s table.

“Sure, what is it?” David turned to give them his full attention.

“How do you train a...dog?”

David smirked, “You finally gonna try and teach Spot some manners?”

“Ha. Ha. I’m serious, how do you train animals?”

“Why did you come to me for this? What gave you guys the idea I somehow know the answer?”

Jack quickly answered with a grin, “‘Cause you know everything, Dave!” Race nodded along, agreeing.

David rolled his eyes, “What kind of animal are you trying to train, a dog?”

Spot nodded seriously, “A really big, ferocious… dog.”

David thought for a second before his eyes went wide, “You guys aren’t gonna train a monster or anything, right? Because that would literally be the dumbest thing I could think of.”

“Whaaat? Train a monster? That’s ridiculous, but since you brought it up,  _ do _ you know how to train a monster? I’m asking for a friend,”

Spot raised his hand, “I’m the friend.” David groaned.

“Seriously? And you weren’t going to invite me, Race?” Jack whined.

“You wouldn’t have been able to see it.”

Jack slumped in his seat, “It still would’ve been cool.” 

Spot rolled his eyes and but on his normal sarcastic tone, “You two have been zero help today, but thanks for trying! Me and Race have some bait to go and catch now, so we’ll talk later, or not. Preferably not.” Race waved to the other boys currently eating in the restaurant before following Spot outside.

“So, Race, have you decided on which monster would be easiest to catch?”

“I don’t know, I thought maybe we could go hunting for some Spitehounds?” Race shrugged.

“Lemme’ guess, are they all bark and no bite?”

Race nodded, “Pretty much. Journal says that even though they seem mean and angry, they can’t really do any harm. Also it sounds like they’re pretty common, I’m surprised we haven’t seen one yet. Too bad no one else can see them though, it’d make things a lot easier.” Spot made a noise of disgust. “What? You don’t think it’d be nice to have some help?”

Spot shrugged, shuffling his feet on the ground, “No it’s not that. It’s just- I don’t know, it’s been really nice getting to hang out with you again. Just the two of us, like old times.” Spot ran a hand through his hair, “God, I sound like some geezer reminiscing about the good ol’ days.”

Race smiled, “I know what you mean. I’ve really liked spending all this time with you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry but I feel like this has become my normal chapter length... At least I didn't end this one on a cliff hanger!  
> Next time: Feeding their new pet, cause we all know that'll be a disaster


	15. Sooo just feed it?

“What the hell, Spot! You’re 20 minutes late, I thought I was gonna have to go looking for your dead body.” Spot shrugged. Both boys had agreed to split up in order to catch as many Spitehounds as possible to feed to the Nightwing Lynx. They met back up on top of the roof overlooking the injured monster to compare their hauls.

“Well in just half an hour I was able to catch two Spitehounds so that’s a pretty good start,” Race held up a sack proudly so Spot could see. Spot nodded approvingly.

“Um I think there’s… four in this bag and,” Spot paused so he could pull another sack from behind he back, “Another three in this one.”

Spot couldn’t keep the smirk off his face as Race groaned, “Of fucking course. So how are we gonna feed it? Put the food on the end of a stick?”

“I guess, but instead of a stick, I figured we’d use this?” Spot held up his cane.

“I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to knowing that thing’s a sword, but yeah it’ll probably a bit easier to use that.”

The sun was setting, which meant that the nocturnal Nightwing would be waking up soon. The boys hurried down the fire escape toward the alley way and Spot stabbed a Spitehound through the middle to keep it on his sword. As they approached, the monster let out a low growl and lifted its massive head. They both froze still a good twenty paces away as the monster watched them carefully. Spot looked toward Race, “I don’t think it’ll let us get any closer without attacking. We’re gonna have to rethink this.”

“Yeah okay, how about we start small. Just try throwing a Spitehound toward him and see if he’ll take it.” Spot nodded and removed the small monster from the end of his sword before taking a deep breath and tossing it gently. It landed with quiet thud and rolled forward until it was only a few feet away from the Nightwing. Both boys jumped as the large monster pounced on its prey ripping the head from the shoulders before swallowing the rest whole.

“Good thing we brought plenty of Spitehounds,” Race whispered as Spot tossed another toward the starving monster. It ate it just as quickly as the first one so Spot went to grab the one in Race’s hands. As he threw it, they heard a voice behind them.

“Spot? Issat you?” Race hadn’t heard anyone approach and jumped at the sound, but Spot simply turned to face the newsie standing in the entrance of the alley. He looked to be about Cricket’s age with wavy blonde hair falling in his face.

“Possum, what are you doing all the way on this side a Brooklyn? Don’t you know the lodging house is gonna close soon?”

“I know, it’s just I have to…” Possum trailed off and started biting his lip, “I need to make a few extra coins so…” He wouldn’t meet Spot’s stern gaze and instead opted for looking at his feet.

Spot was about to say something but Race interrupted, smiling, trying to defuse a situation he really didn’t understand, “What could you possibly be doing at this hour to make money?” Race’s smile quickly died as he saw Spot’s jaw set. Possum was chewing so hard on his lip Race was a little worried he’d bite all the way through and his face had turned a deep scarlet as he kept his eyes trained on his shoes.

Spot’s voice came out low as if he was trying to hold back his anger when he finally spoke, “I thought you promised that you were done doing that. I told you to talk to me if you were ever that desperate for money again.” Race could tell Spot was genuinely concerned for his newsie, but still wasn’t completely caught up on what was happening.

Possum paused from biting his lip to explain himself, “I know, but the money’s not for me! Look, Cricket got scratched up pretty bad and word is he’s gonna need medicine in order for it to heal properly. Medicine that he can’t afford. I thought that if I just- then Cricket wouldn’t have to worry about a stupid price tag while he’s trying to get better. Not all of us can just be miraculously healed like you, Spot.”

Spot nodded in understanding but he still wasn’t pleased, “And you were seriously gonna go alone? Did you even tell anyone why you were leaving? You should’ve at least asked Cricket to keep an eye out for you to be sure you got back okay.”

Possum’s lip chewing returned full force, “Cricket can _never_ know! If he found out, he’d never want anything to do with me again!” Spot put a hand on Possum’s shoulder and started speaking quietly to him as Possum nodded along glumly. It became obvious to Race that he wasn’t meant to hear anymore of this conversation than he already had so he turned back to the Nightwing Lynx. It must finally be getting full because it was still nibbling on the last Spitehound Spot had thrown to it. Race stood watching the monster eat, trying not to feel as awkward as he felt while the two boys behind him talked.

After a few minutes, Spot’s voice returned to a normal level, “Hey Race, can you spot me two bits?” Race nodded, and quickly pulled out a couple of quarters. He handed them directly to Possum, figuring the money was for Cricket’s medicine.

“Thanks, Racetrack. This means a lot, I swear I’ll pay you back as soon as I can,” Possum gave Race a wide smile.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s probably better my money is going to a good cause than being wasted at the track anyway.” Possum pocketed the coins along with the money Spot must have given him and headed back towards the lodging house. After he left, Race waited for Spot to give a bit of an explanation to what just happened, but was instead met with silence.

“Sooo…”

Spot sighed, “Look you gotta promise you won’t spread any of that around okay?”

“Of course, but I’m still not completely sure what it is Possum was talking about.”

Spot cocked his head, “You really don’t know? What, is Manhattan too high and mighty for that kind of thing?”

“Spot, I honestly have no-” Race stopped as realization hit him and his face went red, “Oh.”

“I mean it, Race, don’t tell anyone. Possum is really worried about Cricket finding out. Cricket means a lot to him.” Spot threw one final Spitehound to the monster and sat on the ground to watch it eat. Race sat down to join him.

“Have they always been close?”

Spot laughed, “They’ve been joined at the hip even before I met them. They stay up til all hours of the night together. Possum was actually in the refuge with me for awhile and all he ever talked about was Cricket. It was annoying as hell, but also kinda sweet y’know?” Both boys crinkled their noses as they watched a skull get gnashed into tiny bits.

“How’d Possum get thrown into the refuge?”

Spot shrugged, “Who knows, but it was Cricket who saved up the bail money and got him out early. Didn’t see either one again until my battle for kingsmanship. They were there to help me overthrow the previous king.”

After a short silence, Race took a deep breath, “Spot, I don’t think I ever apologized for abandoning you back then and getting caught up in Manhattan.”

“Technically you still haven’t.”

Race smirked before returning to full seriousness, “I’m sorry, Spot. I should’ve been there for you.”

Spot gave him a small smile, “Thanks, Race.”

“Where’s my ‘and I’m sorry I was a dick and banned you from Brooklyn last week’?”

Spot rolled his eyes, “You deserved that so don’t even try. And while that was a good first step, I think it will still be a long time before I’m able to completely trust you again like I did back then.”

Race nodded understanding, “Especially since I keep giving you reasons not to trust me.”

Suddenly Spot sat up, “Speaking of we still never figured out what happened that night or what that note meant.”

“What note?”

Spot groaned, “The. Note. Y’know with the address where you saw your first monster?” Race nodded remembering, “Why don’t we both go back there? So long as you don’t get scared and run away this time.”

Race yawned, “Fine, but it’ll have to wait til tomorrow, because unlike Cricket and Possum, I am _not_ nocturnal and I need sleep.” Spot reluctantly agreed to wait and the two walked all the way to the bridge together before parting ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow are they actually talking about emotions??? I'm so proud <3  
> In case it wasn't totally obvious Possum's talking about prostitution. and although it wasn't uncommon at the time, it probably wasn't the preferred method to make money for these boys  
> Also I have no idea what happened to everyone's dialect? I guess I got lazy because it's slowly been disappearing...oh well  
> Next time: Back to the warehouse!!


	16. We actually have a lead?

At the Manhattan lodging house, everyone woke up to begin their usual morning routine of shoving and shouting at each other. They came thundering down the steps past Kloppmann until Jack came to an abrupt stop at the front of line. Which caused all the boys behind him to crash into the boy directly in front of them, creating a painful pile of newsies at the bottom of the stairs.

Spot stood in the open doorway and turned to Jack, who was now the only newsie still standing, “Wow is this how you start _every_ day in Manhattan?”

“Spot? What’re you doing here?” Jack tried to sound casual as his newsies slowly started picking themselves off the floor.

“I’m here for Race, we got things ta do today,” Spot peered around Jack, looking for his friend. He spotted him still lying underneath Skittery. Race shoved the taller boy off him and helped up Crutchie, before turning to Spot.

“What, it can’t wait til after I sell morning edition? You’ve really been cutting into my profits lately, you know that?” Spot rolled his eyes before going back outside and Race followed shoving his hands in his pockets, looking for a cigar. “Should we go check on the Nightwing Lynx before heading to the warehouse?”

Spot shook his head, “Already did and the thing’s out cold for the day. Thought it’d save some time if I just did it on my way over here.”

Race nodded and the two walked in silence the rest of the way to the Bronx. They picked up some breakfast and quickly swallowed it down as they neared the warehouse where Race had seen his first monster. Spot kept a firm grip on his cane as Race went to open the small side door in front of them. They both took a deep breath and Race flung the door open. They ran in, prepared for a battle, but both stopped short a couple feet inside. The warehouse was empty. Actually empty this time, except for a few rats trying to scurry under a pile of crates.

Spot groaned, “Are you fucking kidding me? Not one single monster?!” Race opened his mouth to respond but Spot kept going, “All we’ve got is that stupid journal that just gives descriptions of monsters, that fucking idiot never tried to explain why there are monsters all over New York! And now the only other lead we have, the address to this empty warehouse, is another dead end! For the rest of our lives we’re gonna have to save New York from these fucking monsters and we’ll never be able to stop them because _every lead we get is a dead end_!” Spot kicked his foot into the nearest crate and one of the planks snapped under the brute force. Spot took a deep breath and added, “I don’t get it, Race, what’re we supposed to do?”

Race’s eyes widened, “Well I think your little tantrum just gave me a pretty good idea.” Spot’s eyes followed to where Race was pointing. The smashed crate revealed what was stored inside. It was filled with smaller bulky packages wrapped in brown paper and stamped with a company name and location.

“Race, you know I can’t fucking read.”

“Oh right, we need to keep working on that.”

Spot rolled his eyes, “Or you could just tell me what it says.”

Race sighed, “Fine it says ‘Armour and Company’ and there’s an address underneath. Hey, isn’t that one of those big meat packing factories?” Spot nodded, his face scrunched in disgust. “So are these crates filled with meat? That does kinda explain the smell.”

“Let’s find out,” Spot bent down and tore open a package. Race peered over his shoulder but quickly jumped away when the paper was torn away. “Ugh, gross. Definitely not meat.” Inside each package was a small bundle of bones. Race made a gagging noise behind him.

Spot stood back up, wiping his hands on his trousers. “This isn’t much of a lead. It’s not exactly a secret the meat packing industry is disgusting.”

Race blinked at him, “What’re you talking about, this is at least something. What are Armour crates doing in the same warehouse as monsters? Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious?”

Spot groaned, “So what, we’re gonna break into the Armour and Company factory?” Race shrugged nodding. “Ugh you get within even one block of that factory and you smell like rotting meat for a week. You really wanna do this?”

“What choice do we have?” The two boys stepped outside and both blinked against the bright sunlight. “At least we have time to sell the evening edition beforehand.”

*****

“You need my help to do what?” Jack squinted at Race as he took a bite out of David’s sandwich. David turned back around from talking to Mush just in time to see his sandwich being put back on his plate.

Race sighed and repeated himself, “Me and Spot are gonna scope out the Armour and Co. factory tonight and I was wonderin’ if you knew anything about it that’d be helpful.”

David pulled a face, “Ugh that place smells.”

“See? That’s not helpful,” Race dead panned.

Jack scratched at his chin, thinking aloud, “Armour and Company...that’s kinda known for being the last resort if you’re looking for a job. It’s one of the worst factory jobs around. Besides being the smelliest, it’s probably one of the most dangerous too. S’why they’re always hiring; gotta replace the workers that got hurt or even killed. Not to mention the long term effects of working in a place like that. After a while people have a hard time breathing even when they’re not at the factory.”

“What? That’s awful!”

Jack shrugged, “It’s just the way things are, Davey. It may be a shitty job, but a job’s a job. Whatever puts food on the table”

Race cocked his head, studying Jack, “How do you know so much about this place?”

Jack frowned, “Uh, when my dad was still around, he’d pick up some jobs here and there and he tried working there when he heard they were hiring. Only stayed there for a week, but that’s longer than most. The usual Armour and Co. employee lasts about a day before quitting.”

“Armour and Company?” Bumlets’ head appeared from around the next booth over.

Race nodded, “Yeah me and Spot are investigating the place tonight. You know anything that could help?”

Bumlets nodded, “Didn’t I tell you? That’s where Charlie used to work, before he apparently, y’know, _died_ …”

“Charlie?”

“The guy that wrote the journal, remember?” Race quickly answered Jack, before turning back to Bumlets eagerly, “You think that has anything to do with all of this?”

“I don’t know, it could,” Bumlets answered thoughtfully.

Race quickly swallowed down the rest of his sandwich before Jack could get his hands on it and rushed towards the door, “I gotta go tell Spot ‘bout this! Thanks guys!” Race made the trek to Brooklyn in record time, excited to relay all the information he got to Spot. As he made his way to the docks, he was stopped by Copycat before he could get too close to the throne.

“Sorry, Race. Spot’s busy right now and said for no one to bother him.”

“What, why?”

“Hell if I know, it looks like he’s just up there reading, but rules are rules” Copy shrugged.

“Well don’t worry, I’m an exception to all of Spot’s rules,” Race said proudly as he walked around the small boy towards the throne. Reading? That can’t be right, Race thought to himself, but sure enough atop his pile of crates Spot had a book in his hands.

“Spot! What’re you doin up there?” The sudden noise made Spot jump in surprise and he shoved the book behind him, out of Race’s view.

“Nothin, just thinking.”

Race rolled his eyes, “Bullshit. Don’t make me come up there to find out.” Spot smirked and made a show of getting comfy atop his throne. Race groaned, “You have got to be kidding me.” He slowly made his way up the teetering pile of crates until he finally reached Spot and took a seat beside him. They both sat in silence for a couple of minutes, simply taking in the view and without missing a beat, Spot laid his hand on top of Race’s.

“So what were you doing up here that’s so important no one’s allowed to bother you.” Instead of answering, Spot hands over the book he had hidden. It was the learner book Race had given him.

“You reading without me now?” Race smiled.

“I guess things were just going too slow for me,” Spot said glumly,  his eyes landed on their two hands intertwined and sighed.

Race followed Spot’s gaze and took a deep breath, “But that’s not the only thing going too slow, is it?” Spot didn’t answer and Race bit his lip coming to some sort of decision in his mind. He leaned toward Spot letting his eyes flutter shut.

Realizing he was about to be kissed, Spot jumped back and his voice turned serious, “Race.”

Race snapped out of his daze and quickly shook his head, his face becoming red hot with shame, “I’m so sorry, I just thought that- It seemed like-I didn’t mean-” Race took a breath to compose himself and tried again, “I’m sorry, I guess I misread the situation.”

“No! It’s just...not _here_ ,” Spot looked pointedly at all the newsies scattered about the docks down below going about their business. The two boys fell into an awkward silence that only lasted a couple minutes before Race pulled out and lit a cigar. He offered one to Spot who shook his head. “So what’d you come all this way to tell me, I thought we weren’t meeting til 8?”

Race suddenly remembered what Bumlets had told him and he smiled, “Well, it’s just that we might have to make a detour to Charlie’s house before we visit Armour and Co.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I never intend for it to be this long between updates but life gets in the way. For those wondering Armour and Company was an actual meat packing company that existed at the time in New York. Anything I know about the meat packing industry back then comes from Upton Sinclair's novel The Jungle which I highly recommend.  
> Also I have a head canon that Jack is a total food thief when it comes to his friends...  
> Next time: A visit to Charlie's house again (duh)


End file.
